In Love and War
by Nova Gloriosa
Summary: Raminas was at his wit's end. His niece needed a husband, whether she wanted one or not. And when Basch fon Ronsenburg strode into the room, he realized the Captain was the perfect candidate. BaschxOC 8.20.13 UNDERGOING MASSIVE REWRITE!
1. Prologue: A Proposal

The idea for this story came to me when I was nearing the end of FFXII, and I started writing stuff down, but then inspiration sort of died out when I finished the game. Now my inspiration is back on, and so is this story. I've been working overtime on this story when I _really_ should be working on my story for FFVII… But, I don't know how long this muse will last, so it's coming first. :)

**Summary: **As the summary for the story implies, I've given Raminas a niece, and he wants said niece to get married for various reasons. Then he drags poor Basch into the picture. Oh boy. Hopefully you guys might think the story is better than the crappy summaries, lol.

Oh, and the term Bhujerban Madhu comes up a few times in this chapter. If you don't know what it is or you didn't do the side quest in the game, Bhujerban Madhu is a Bhujerban wine, very rare and _very _strong. I loved this sidequest because of the gil you get from it and the hilarious scenes you get when you sell it.

**-XII-**

Prologue-A Proposal (Or Two)

**-XII-**

The dining hall in the Royal Palace of Rabanastre was filled with the excited chatter of Dalmascan nobles. Abandoning royal protocol and etiquette alike, the usually sophisticated and calm dining hall was loud, animated, and above all, breaking out the Bhujerban Madhu.

King Raminas sat at the head of the table, his daughter Ashelia on his right, and his niece, Aralenne, on his left. Rasler was in his usual place by Ashe; his elbow was propped up on the table, his chin resting on his hand as he stared at his fiancée with adoration. The King cleared his throat loudly, and the table began to quiet as he stood up.

"To a long, happy, and healthy marriage," Raminas declared, lifting his glass into the air as everyone followed suite, raising their glass and taking a sip of the strong madhu. "Ashelia," he said, looking at his daughter, who beamed up at him. "I had always wondered when this day come, and now that it finally has…" King Raminas faltered a bit, his eyes seeming to mist a bit as he realized that his little girl had finally grown up. "I'm afraid it's come too soon."

The table had grown silent during the King's sentimental address to his daughter. He seemed to realize this and quickly cleared his throat.

"Your marriage," he continued, "will not only result in many blessings for both Dalmasca and Nabradia, but for yourselves as well. And now that I am sure you are taken care of…" Raminas looked at the young woman to his left. She shifted slightly in her seat as the table's attention now turned to her. "I can focus my concentration on your cousin."

The table laughed knowingly, and Aralenne flushed guiltily, giving a nervous laugh. Most of the people at the table knew of the King's tried and failed attempts to get her on the marriage market; she adamantly refused to see any suitors whatsoever. Raminas had yet to find a man who could get the young woman to willingly accept their proposal. He was at his wit's end.

The young woman in question was now grinning wickedly, carefully aiming a spoon with a grape in it at her soon-to-be cousin, in retaliation for the one he had flicked her way a few seconds earlier. She let it fly, but Rasler quickly deflected it with his arm, and laughed at her defeat. Aralenne quickly grabbed another grape, resolving to hit the Nabradian prince before breakfast was over. Ashe giggled through the whole ordeal, opting not to participate.

Raminas shook his head. Teenagers.

He looked at the young woman to his left; Aralenne laughed as she hit her target; the grape went flying through the gaping hole in the upper chest area of Rasler's armor.

Aralenne. His precious niece. Taken into his guardianship at nine years old after the death of her parents. She was an exceptionally bright child, very intelligent too. That, combined with her high-spiritedness made a combination that he both loved and loathed at times. But he knew that any man would have been lucky to have her as a wife. That is, if they could ever get her to the altar.

After the 'grape war' with Rasler had ended, she picked up a strawberry and bit into it, reveling in the sweet taste. Her dark, reddish-brown hair spilled over her shoulders, and she quickly pushed it out of her face, wishing she had a ribbon or some sort of tie to pull it back.

Finishing up the small fruit, Aralenne then picked up a thin and delicate spoon on the right of her plate. She held her wineglass by the stem as she lightly tapped the utensil against it. This caught everyone's attention "I propose a toast: To my new cousin," she said, lifting her glass into the air. "I wish him the best of luck. He will need it if he is to survive in this family." Aralenne took a sip and eyed the person in question with a cool expression as the warm alcohol slid down her throat.

The whole table chortled with amusement as they raised their glasses. Aralenne looked at Rasler over the top of her glass, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction and her lips twitching, as if she were struggling not to laugh. Rasler raised an eyebrow, and gave her a challenging look that clearly said: 'Laugh all you want. I have more grapes than you do.'

Aralenne set her glass down, picking up another strawberry and lifting it to her mouth. Her hazel eyes glanced around the table. Ashe and Raminas were deep in conversation while Rasler had begun chatting it up with one of the king's advisors. Basch and Vossler were discussing something, most likely the Order, and the rest of the table was talking quite amiably. She was the only one who wasn't in a conversation with someone. Perfect.

Quietly pushing her chair back, Aralenne allowed herself just enough room to slip out of the chair unnoticed before silently making her way out of the dining hall.

"…a marvelous idea, don't you think so Ara--lenne…?" Raminas had turned to where his niece had been sitting, only to find an empty chair greet his eyes. He sighed. "I turn my back for _one_ minute…"

"I admire her strategy," Rasler replied, sipping his drink.

"Strategy?" Raminas and Ashe questioned.

"You never noticed?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. "It's her best tactic; once everyone has their back turned in conversation, she quietly stands up and leaves."

"Hmph," was the King's only reply. "I wonder if I made her uncomfortable with that comment after my speech…"

"Most likely," Ashe answered. "You know how she feels about marriage."

"I know _all_ too well," her father replied wearily. "I just wish she would stop this charade; she will have to marry someone sooner or later. For the sake of Faram, she's only two years older than you, Ashelia, and she has yet to take her social status seriously. It drives me _mad_."

Ashe patted his arm sympathetically, trying to calm his nerves. Raminas slapped a hand on the table, making her lean back in surprise.

"I will be _damned_ if my niece does not take her position in this family seriously," he groused, taking a swig of wine from his glass. "Does she not know how important she is to me?"

"Of course she does," Ashe told him, "but you know how she feels about this. She doesn't want you are coercing her into marriage just for the sake of being married."

"Well then," the King responded, wiping his mouth and standing up. "I guess a more detailed explanation is due. I take my leave. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Rasler stated, popping a grape in his mouth.

"You're not supposed to say 'good luck'," Ashe exclaimed, "it's _bad_ luck!"

Swallowing the grape, he flashed her an apologetic smile. An awkward silence.

"Oops."

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the gardens, legs curled up underneath her and dragging her finger around in the water, smiling slightly as a small orange fish chased after it.

"A stealthy exit Aralenne," came her uncle's voice. "One would think you wouldn't want to leave the feast celebrating your cousin's engagement so soon."

"Everyone seemed to be getting along just fine," she said nonchalantly. "I figured my absence would not cause too much of a disruption."

Raminas sat down next to her, but Aralenne did not look up. Many more fish had joined their comrade in the chase for her finger, and she smiled as the group swam back and forth.

"I apologize if my comment at breakfast upset you," he told her.

She sighed softly, taking her finger from the water, making the fish scatter in all directions. "It didn't upset me," she admitted, "it just…" Aralenne stopped, trying to find the right words. "I just thought that this whole marriage issue was past."

"It has never been _past_," her uncle replied sternly, "simply pushed aside."

"Getting married has always been at the bottom of my list of priorities," she stated, trying her best to disguise the weariness in her voice. "Why must you ask this of me?" She looked away from him, dipping her finger back into the fountain.

"Oh Aralenne, it isn't just that. Your cousin and I only want you to be happy."

"You think _marriage_ will make me happy? Tell me Uncle, have you heard any complaints from me lately? Have I given you _any_ reason to doubt my happiness?"

"Actually I can think of several-" Raminas began casually, but Aralenne continued.

"Uncle, I love my life. I love everything about my life. I don't even want to think about where I might be if you hadn't taken me in ten years ago. I'm happier now than I've _ever_ been."

After a minutes' silence, Raminas stood up. "You say that now, Aralenne, but Ashelia and I won't always be here for you. One day you're going to want the kind of love that your family can't give."

Aralenne watched her uncle walk away. She held up her left hand in front of her face, trying to imagine a wedding ring on her ring finger. She looked at her other hand, at the ring that adorned her other ring finger. A flattened, pale, translucent stone was set into a silver base on a thin band. An identical stone was strung on a thin silver chain around her neck.

Aralenne lifted her hand to the stone on the necklace, her thumb rubbing it in agitation. Instantly a feeling of peace and serenity overcame her. She sighed with relief. Holy stones could work such wonders. Yet her mind remained clouded with thoughts of her uncle's words.

She stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she did so. Aralenne looked once more at her left hand, before making for the garden's entrance.

It was both easy and painful to imagine a ring on that empty hand.

When Aralenne had seen firsthand all the emphasis royal families placed on marriage, the very idea of it looked incredibly appalling. It wasn't that she didn't want to get married one day, she did, but to the right person. A person she chose, not her uncle. She wanted a marriage like her parents had. One that was based on love. But such marriage among royals was a rarity of its own. Ashe and Rasler were fortunate enough to be in the category, along with Raminas and his late wife, to have an arranged marriage and ultimately fall in love.

She sighed, shaking her head.

How lucky her cousin was.

And how she envied her.

**-XII-**

The following weeks were chaotic. Ashe and Rasler wanted the wedding to be as soon as possible. Ashe just wanted to be married; Rasler wanted to get the pomp and circumstance over with. When Aralenne had asked him why, he only mumbled (very uncomfortably, much to her delight) something about 'childhood trauma'.

Ashe had resolved to do most of the planning herself, with Aralenne as her designated 'second-in-command'. However, this only meant that Ashe asked for her opinion on every small detail, and made her own decisions regardless of what her cousin thought.

The two of them sat in the piano room, Ashe nestled comfortably in one of the chairs while Aralenne sat at the piano. Her slender hands ran smoothly over the ivory keys, no sheet music in front of her as the beautiful music spilled into the room.

"Hey Lenne," Ashe asked, scribbling on a piece of paper in front of her. "What color should the flowers be?"

"White," she responded. "Maybe add a little bit of red or yellow." The piece she was playing soon ended after she gave her answer. Flexing her fingers, she started another piece, one she had played since she was a child.

"Do you have the arrangement for this piece somewhere?" Ashe asked.

"It is somewhere in my room," Aralenne replied. "I'll have to look for it."

"Good. I want it played at my reception."

Aralenne's gazed wandered to the balcony, where the sun shone in brightly, and a soft breeze blew in. She softly hummed the lyrics of the song to herself, while hearing an imaginary voice sing them in her head.

_I kind of liked it your way  
How you shyly placed your eyes on me  
Oh, did you ever know?  
That I had mine on you _

"I can't believe you're getting _married_," Aralenne finally said. "Who would've thought it?"

"Well, if you weren't so stubborn, _you_ could be married _already_."

Aralenne laughed. "No thank you. I'll pass."

Ashe huffed and looked at her list. "Is there any specific wine you want at the reception?"

"Bhujerban Madhu," she replied, in a melodramatic fashion. "I'll have nothing else!" She chuckled at her own mock-seriousness. She would have been fine with any wine her cousin wanted, it was her reception after all, but if Ashe wanted her opinion…

"I think we drank the last of it a few weeks ago. We'll have to order more. Hopefully Uncle Halim has more of it in stock; it's getting hard to come by a good vintage these days."

Aralenne nodded. "When do you get fitted for your gown?" She asked.

"Oh they did that yesterday! You should see the design, it's gorgeous," she gushed. "Oh and by the way," she added nonchalantly, "_you_ are scheduled for your fitting sometime today."

Both of Aralenne's hands inadvertently flattened on the keys, letting forth a mangled and twisted sound. She looked positively horrified. "What? Why? I don't need a special gown for this--this is _your_ wedding and reception, I'm just a guest, my dress doesn't need to stand out."

And the truth was, the palace seamstresses scared her. She had been mercilessly poked by their pins and needles many times over the years, and she would use just about _any_ excuse to get out of a fitting.

"A guest who happens to be _my_ cousin and a member of this family," Ashe countered with finality. "You are royalty as much as I am. You have _no_ excuses."

Aralenne shook her head before standing up and grabbing a sheet of paper from Ashe. "Fine. But if I am going to stand through three hours of those old bats stabbing me with pins and needles, the dress will be to _my _design." She plopped herself down in another chair, bending over the table in front of it, drawing a loose outline of what she wanted.

Ashe leaned over to watch. "What color will it be?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Well, as long as it's a _feminine_ color…"

Aralenne paused. She raised a curious eyebrow at her cousin. "How feminine?"

Ashe put a finger on her chin in mock thought. "Like… _Pink_ or _yellow_, feminine."

"Pink is _horrible_ on me!" Aralenne exclaimed. "And yellow is…" She faltered, suddenly at a loss of what to say. "Yellow makes me look… Not good. Red or purple!"

"Purple!" Ashe exclaimed with finality. "_Royal_ purple!"

Aralenne smiled. "Well then, purple it is." Then she continued sketching, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

"Now that I think of it," Ashe mused, after a minute of silence, "Purple is a good color for you. Not too bright, it's bold… And it still lets _my_ dress have the spotlight!" She clapped her hands in glee.

"And judging from your design…" She looked over Aralenne's shoulder, "You'd be able find a suitor at the reception for _sure_." Ashe nudged her cousin in the ribs with a playful smile.

Aralenne gave laughed. "I don't plan on picking a husband at your reception, Ashe. I just plan on looking my best. I don't get dressed up very often."

A minute's silence. A scratching of pen on paper.

"So when is this blasted fitting again?"

Aralenne wanted to get a head start on running while she still could.

**-XII-**

It was the day before the wedding, and the palace was utter pandemonium. Servants scurried around like mad, making last minute preparations and checking over every tiny detail to make sure everything was absolutely perfect.

King Raminas and Aralenne stood in the grand ballroom, watching members of the Order of the Knights of Dalmasca do the heavy lifting. Vossler and three others were bringing in the grand piano, and Aralenne cringed, hoping they didn't drop the precious instrument. She loved that piano.

"I'm glad I'm not the one getting married," she said, leaning towards. "If preparation is _this_ much of a hassle…"

Raminas merely grunted, crossing his arms as they set the piano down. All of them let out a sigh of relief, wiping the perspiration off their foreheads, leaning against the piano in satisfaction.

"Uhhh, boys?" Aralenne ventured hesitantly. "The piano goes all the way over there." She pointed to a far corner on the opposite side of the room. They all groaned resentfully, picking up the piano once more. She chuckled.

"Well, Uncle," she said, turning to Raminas, "_I_ am going to go for a walk in the city; these preparations are taking their heavy toll on me."

"You haven't even done anything!" One of the soldiers shouted indignantly from across the room.

Aralenne smirked before flashing the men a dazzling smile. "I know. But overseeing you all is more than enough."

She patted her uncle on the shoulder. "I'll be back later Uncle." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. Raminas smiled slightly as he watched her make for the exit of the ballroom, sidestepping soldiers and servants.

'_I'm glad I'm not the one getting married.'_

A sigh. The subject had weighed very heavily on Raminas for the past few weeks. He was not getting any younger; he wanted to make sure his niece had the care and protection she needed and deserved before he kicked the bucket. All of his attempts at formulating a plan to accomplish this had driven him to his wit's end; Aralenne _did_ need a husband, whether she wanted one or not. Trying to marry her off to a complete stranger would be a wasted effort. But… what if she _knew_ the man…?

Hmm. Now there was a thought. Maybe he should entertain this new notion instead. But what man who knew Aralenne would actually have the gall to _marry_ her? His niece could be stubborn, but she had quite a gentle disposition most of the time and was quite caring by nature. The only thing any husband of hers might have problem with was her tendency to linger more with the male crowd rather than the female, claiming that, 'listening to men gossip was infinitely more entertaining'. Of course Ashe was an exception to this rule. Ashe was really the only female Aralenne interacted with on a daily basis.

He looked over to the ballroom's exit. Aralenne stood in the doorway, talking with Captain Basch. She was smiling and pointing to something in the room. Basch looked down at her and returned the smile before laying a hand on her shoulder and walking into the room.

The King's mind into overdrive. Just seeing that small, short, innocent exchange between them had given him a plan. Not a fool-proof plan, but still, it would be hard for Aralenne to shoot this one down.

"My Lord?"

Raminas was jolted from his thoughts when he heard Basch's voice. The man wasn't wearing his customary armor today, none of the soldiers were. Basch wore a thin, white, long-sleeved shirt with a few of the top laces undone, exposing a tanned chest, along with pair of light brown trousers with dark brown boots.

"What is it Captain?"

"The guests from Bhujerba have arrived. The Marquis Ondore requests your presence."

Ondore… Maybe his old friend could help him in his… plot, for lack of a better word. "Thank you Basch," he said absentmindedly, before making for the exit.

**-XII-**

"And this diabolical plan of yours is based on what you witnessed during a small, insignificant exchange?"

"You make it sound as if I have not thought this through," Raminas replied, standing on the balcony, both hands grasping the stone railing.

Marquis Halim Ondore IV sat in a chair in the King's study. "You formulate this plan even when you know of her distaste for marriage; why?"

An brief pause. "At first, this was only about social status; marriage was to be expected of her. But now…" He faltered a bit. "Now I just want her to have someone to be there for her, the way Lord Rasler is there for my Ashelia. It pains me to think that when I leave this world… she might still be alone."

Ondore lowered his gaze in thought. It truly was a discomforting notion to think that one so young may already want to give up on something as wonderful as love.

"My sister and her husband raised a wonderful child, Halim. There can be no doubt about that. I would not change my niece for the world, yet… Is it wrong of me to wonder how she would have turned out had she been raised at court instead?"

"I think we have all wondered that many times over the years. More specifically when those times were difficult. You could argue that our Aralenne would have turned out to be a perfect example to noblewomen everywhere, but what would have been the cost? Either way, my old friend, it would seem that you have your work cut out for you. When will you speak to the two of them about this arrangement?"

Raminas rubbed the back of his neck, thinking it over. "I will talk to Captain Ronsenburg after the reception this evening. But I will not speak of this matter to Aralenne until I hear the Captain's thoughts on it first."

"And how do you think he will take this news?" Ondore asked. "Today he is a Captain of Dalmasca. Tomorrow he may be your niece's fiancé. Quite a change from the battlefield."

"I will not force him into this," Raminas put firmly. "I ask this of him as a personal favor, nothing more. Albeit quite a large favor…" He added, mostly to himself, yet Ondore heard it nonetheless.

"You might as well make it a command rather than a request. You know he will not refuse. The man is more loyal to you than even the most faithful of hounds is to its master. Favor or not… I do not think he would not risk your disappointment."

**-XII-**

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful beyond words. Ashe looked absolutely radiant, her face glowed with happiness throughout the entire ceremony. Rasler was calm throughout the ordeal, but Aralenne knew better. Only hours earlier she had been running back and forth between the dressing rooms of the newlyweds, delivering messages to each other, wiping away the bride's tears of joy, and trying to keep the groom from having a nervous breakdown. Luckily everything had turned out fine in the end.

Now Aralenne stood in a hallway adjacent to the ballroom, waiting for the wedding escort to arrive. Everything was in place; she had arrived here early to make sure of that. She wrung her hands together anxiously, glancing into a mirror on the wall every so often. Her heels made constant clicking sounds over the tile. Her head jerked towards the door as the blaring of trumpets echoed through the walls.

Aralenne smoothed out the skirt of her dress as loud cheers and clapping commenced. Cracking open the door slightly, she saw the crowd pouring in. Ashe and Rasler were in there somewhere, surrounded by people.

Checking her appearance in the mirror once more, she took a breath. Hazel eyes stared back at her, familiar but unreadable.

"Let's go."

**-XII-**

Raminas stood in the back of the room by the piano, Basch and Vossler at his side, along with Ondore.

"Daddy!" A voice called through the crowd.

Ashe and Rasler were pushing their way through the massive crowd of guests. When Ashe caught sight of Raminas she bounded forward, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Where's Lenne?" She asked, smiling and pulling away.

"Right here."

Aralenne stepped out of the door, pulling the skirts of her dress out of the way as she closed it. She turned to everyone, smiling brightly as she walked towards them.

"My beautiful niece," Raminas greeted, nearly in awe of the nineteen year-old looking every inch the royalty she never fully accepted, "you are vision of loveliness tonight."

"It's just the dress," Rasler whispered loudly to everyone behind his hand. Ashe, keeping her eyes on Aralenne, whacked him in the arm.

The dress. It was royal purple, the way Ashe had wanted it. After Aralenne had seen the finished result with her own eyes, she decided that it had been worth running away from the seamstresses, being caught and dragged back, and then used as a hume pincushion for three hours.

Ashe stepped up to her cousin, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Your dress turned out great!" She gushed. "You look beautiful!"

"Oh, _this_ thing?" She laughed. She looked her newlywed cousin up and down. "Yours is better though."

Rasler let out an appreciative whistle. "I must admit Lenne, you clean up well."

"Better than you," was her response.

"I thought it was against the rules to be as beautiful as the bride," Ondore told her as she hugged him. Aralenne blushed at his compliment.

After a few more minutes of conversation, the group dispersed, the King and the Marquis heading towards the buffet, and Vossler and Basch saying something about 'checking security'. This left the just the three teenagers; Aralenne soon wandered off to find the wine, and Rasler and Ashe went around the room to greet their guests.

Aralenne lifted the glass to her lips, sipping her Bhujerban Madhu and reveling in the warm feeling it gave her. While most often got drunk very quickly after their first sip, Aralenne had a high tolerance for alcohol that even the soldiers envied. Raminas attested to the fact that it was her Rozarrian blood that kept her from acting like an idiot, and saying that it was the only reason he permitted her to drink such a potent beverage.

A few hours or so into the reception, Aralenne had sunk into a chair at the nearest empty table. A small dish of strawberries had been placed in the center of the table, and she eagerly pulled it towards her to devour it. The musicians had stopped for a short break, but they soon started up again, with a slow, romantic song that Aralenne would have recognized immediately had she not been madly searching the table for a bowl of chocolate that her strawberries desperately seemed to be lacking. Couples began streaming out onto the floor. Aralenne paid them no heed. Dancing couples paled in comparison to the delicious fruit she was eating, now complete with hot, melted, chocolate. But when a magnificent soprano joined in with orchestra, she froze.

_Whenever sang my songs  
On the stage, on my own  
Whenever said my words  
Wishing they would be heard…_

When a warm hand laid itself on her bare shoulder, she shrieked in fright, covering her mouth and almost jumping out her seat. Looking up, she realized it was Basch. He seemed particularly amused by her reaction.

_I saw you smiling at me  
Was it real, or just my fantasy?_

"Yes?" She asked, a hand over her heart.

"Tonight is supposed to be a celebration," he told her, lifting his head to survey the dance floor. "You should smile more."

She rolled her eyes. "Well I would be if you hadn't decided to pop up out of nowehere and play ghost… Was there something you wanted? Other than amusement on my behalf?"

_You'd always be there in the corner…_

He held out his hand to her. "A dance will suffice… for now."

Aralenne raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

_Of this tiny little bar…_

"Of course," he answered, cocking his head a bit. The light from the chandeliers made his golden hair glow, and his blue eyes stand out against his tanned face. "A reception without dancing is a reception not worth having." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

_My last night here for you  
Same old songs, just once more_

Aralenne shook her head, chuckling slightly. "All right Captain, I surrender." She took his outstretched hand and stood up, pushing the skirt of her dress away from her feet. As he led her out into the center of the ballroom, she caught Rasler waggling his eyebrows suggestively, his lips pursed into a thin line as if he were struggling not to laugh. He gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. She suppressed the urge to return his gesture with a more rude one of her own.

_My last night here with you  
Maybe yes, maybe no_

Aralenne leaned down, grabbing the hem of her skirt to keep it from getting in the way of her feet. Basch slipped one of his arms around waist, his hand resting on her back.

_I kind of liked it your way  
How you shyly placed your eyes on me_

"Just to warn you," Aralenne said hesitantly, looking up at him, "I haven't danced in quite a while."

_Oh, did you ever know…_

"I guess that makes us even then," he laughed, before lacing her fingers with his. "Just follow my lead."

_That I had mine on you…?_

He spun her around, her skirts whirling around her gracefully. Aralenne was surprised at how well she was able to keep up with him. She hadn't practiced her ballroom dancing in years, but it steadily began to come back to her as she glided over the floor.

_Darling, so there you are  
With that look on your face  
As if you're never hurt  
As if you're never down_

Ondore was the second to notice Aralenne on the dance floor with the Captain. He chuckled. "Look at your niece," he said to Raminas, pointing his fork in their general direction.

_Shall I be the one for you?  
Who pinches you softly, but sure  
If frown is shown then  
I will know that, you are no dreamer…_

"Ah, Halim, this is wonderful!" He exclaimed. "Perhaps those two will make this easy for me."

"It is just a dance," was the reply he received. "Do not get your hopes up."

_So let me come to you  
Close as I want to be  
Close enough for me  
To feel your heart, beating fast_

"Look at Lenne and the Captain," Rasler said with a smirk, nudging his new wife gently. Ashe looked at them and her mouth formed an perfect 'o' shape. Then she smiled, before pulling her husband out onto the floor.

_And stay there as I whisper  
How I loved your peaceful eyes on me  
Did you ever know…  
That I had mine on you…?_

Aralenne had the sensation floating as she and Basch glided across the dance floor. He spun her around again, and when she twisted around to meet him again, she found her back against his chest.

'All right, so my dancing is not as bad as I thought it would be,' she thought. 'Quite frankly, neither is his. I didn't he would be able to dance in his ceremonial armor, considering it was made for fashion rather than function.'

_Darling, so share with me  
Your love if you have enough_

Aralenne caught sight of Ashe and Rasler. Ashe grinned at her before Rasler pulled her into a spin. Then she felt her own feet leave the floor as Basch picked her up, spinning her around in the air before she came down in whirl of skirts.

_Your tears if you're holding back  
Or pain if that's what it is_

"Don't you think they'd make a good match?" Ashe said to Rasler, as he spun her around.

_How can I let you know  
I'm more than the dress and the voice  
Just reach me out then  
You will know that, you are not dreaming_

"Who?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion, and then looked beyond his new wife, finally understanding. "Lenne and the Captain?"

"Of course!"

_Darling, so there you are,  
With that look on your face…  
_

Rasler was quiet before he answered, "you aren't talking about dance partners are you?"

"What gave you that idea?" She asked, smiling innocently.

_As if you're never hurt…  
As if you're never down…  
_

"Ashe, I don't think you should play matchmaker for your cousin," he said cautiously. "Your father's had enough trouble with it as it is. Maybe it just isn't meant to be at the moment."

"I know," she admitted, "but still, sometimes it bothers me that she doesn't have anyone there for her like the way you are for me."

_Shall I be the one for you?  
Who pinches you softly but sure…  
If frown is shown then_  
_I will know that, you are no dreamer…_

As the song ended, Aralenne was pulled flush against Basch's chest, one of his hands at the small of her back, the other laced with her hand. She peered up into his face, and opened her mouth to say something when a thunderous boom caught her attention. The ballroom suddenly illuminated itself, and Aralenne looked up through the glass panes of the ceiling to see a marvelous display of red and gold fireworks star bursting across the night sky.

The crowd cheered and clapped enthusiastically. She couldn't help but smile. This night really had turned out better than she had expected. She truly was having a good time; the first time in a long time. Whether or not her dance with a certain captain had any effect on this, she didn't know.

But she felt quite content being in his arms.

**-XII-**

The reception continued smoothly for the rest of the night. It was only when the party began nearing its end that Raminas decided it was time to make his request to Basch. So when people began leaving the ballroom, the King asked the captain for a moment of his time. They were walking through the gardens when Raminas decided it was time.

"I need a great favor from you Basch," Raminas said, seating himself on a stone bench. Basch remained standing in front of his lord, his hands linked behind his back.

"Whatever you ask," he replied automatically, "I will serve."

"_No_," Raminas stated wearily, "hear it _all_ before you answer. The favor in question has nothing to do with the oath you swore to me ten years ago. It is a rather _personal_ favor… and it concerns my niece, Aralenne. I would understand completely and not hold it against you if you were to turn it down…"

"Well," Basch said uncertainly, shifting slightly, now having a slight clue as to where this discussion was headed, "what exactly is the favor?"

The King looked him straight in the eyes. "Aralenne… needs a husband. And you have no wife."

Basch was taken aback by this sudden turn in conversation. His eyebrows were raised slightly in surprise and his mouth was open slightly, an unbecoming look for the captain. "My Lord, I-"

"I understand this is very sudden. But, I feel as if I have no choice in this matter anymore. You know of my tried and failed attempts at getting her to take a husband. I… don't know what to do anymore."

Basch fidgeted under the weight of the King's words. "With all due respect My Lord, why me? Surely there are other men more worthy of Aralenne than I am. Vossler, for instance-"

Raminas snorted. His shoulders shook as he covered his mouth to contain his laughter. Basch blinked. He wasn't aware he had said something funny.

"Aralenne? With Vossler? I'd be lucky if she didn't consider moving to Jahara on the spot to go live a life of more simpler meaning with the Garif."

"But why choose me? I am not of noble birth, I have nothing to offer her-"

"Nothing?" He repeated. "Basch, I do not consider lineage to be a prime factor in marriage. You are a renowned Captain of Dalmasca, and one of the best knights I have. Not to mention you have my explicit trust. You are as good as nobility, if not better than most. I know that you would take good care of my niece, and treat her as she deserves. I cannot think of any other man I'd rather have for her than you."

Basch exhaled slowly, locking his gaze on the ground.

Marriage was a serious issue. Marriage to a _royal_ was even more serious.

And out of all the men Raminas could have chosen for Aralenne… He had been the lucky candidate. He felt honored… And at the same time… He felt a tremendous responsibility weigh heavily upon him.

"I understand if you say no. I know that this is lot to ask of you."

"I don't say no," Basch responded quickly, "I was just wondering how to answer this."

"I do not require an answer right away," Raminas said, standing up. "And I haven't told Aralenne of this either. She will know in a few days."

Basch became silent. "Well," he said uncertainly, "if Aralenne does not object to this… proposal, then I see no reason to say no…" The King's face lit up with hope. "Please, just allow me to talk with her once she is informed of this…"

"Of course, of course," Raminas agreed. "Thank you Basch." He clapped him on the shoulder. "You've given this old man a small piece of hope."

_**A few days later…**_

Aralenne stepped into the King's study. She wore a dark green dress with short sleeves and a square-cut neckline. A navy blue sash was wrapped around her torso underneath her cleavage, pushing it up slightly. It was tied in bow around the front.

"You sent for me, Uncle?"

Raminas looked up as his niece stepped into the room. "Yes, Aralenne, please sit down," he told her, setting aside the important documents that needed his signature. He rested his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together, surveying her carefully. He sighed.

"I have something I want to discuss with you."

**-XII-**

"Captain _Ronsenburg_?" Ashe inquired skeptically, twirling a piece of hair around one of her fingers. The two were in a very remote corner of the gardens, surrounded by a thicket of dark green ivy and purple, bell-shaped flowers. Most people missed this spot because you had to crawl under the vines to get in it, which, in turn, meant that you couldn't stand up in there either. One had to sit down or lay down, making it good place to relax and unwind.

"_Yes_, the Captain," her cousin stated flatly. "How many times must I say it?"

Aralenne lay on her back with a hand outstretched, long fingers tracing along the thick vines above her. Ashe sat on the mossy earth with her legs curled beneath her, her skirt pooling around her ankles.

"But he's so-

"Old?" Aralenne responded, snickering lightly.

"That is _not_ what I was going to say," Ashe replied, with slight annoyance. She leaned forward to lay by Aralenne on her stomach. She propped up her head on her arms. "Basch is a good man, but he's also a great captain, and-

"You're worried he would care more about being captain than he would my husband?" Aralenne asked, plucking a flower of the vine.

"Would you _stop_ interrupting me?" Her cousin snapped as Aralenne began to pluck the offending petals off the flower that suddenly became the object of her frustration.

"As I was _saying_," Ashe continued, as her cousin ripped another flower off the vine, "Basch is a great captain. You know how talented he is in battle. He defends our kingdom valiantly-

"Oh please, Ashelia, go on. Tell me _more_," Aralenne said, tossing the ruined flower aside.

"All right!" Ashe exclaimed exasperatedly. She sighed, knowing that reacting to her cousin's emotional wall would not solve what as at hand. "Just give it a chance, Lenne. Give the man a chance to prove himself to you. Don't give up on this relationship before it has even begun."

"He doesn't _have_ to prove himself to me," Aralenne defended. "And I'm not giving up," she mumbled.

"No, but you _want_ to," Ashe countered. "How do you know this won't turn out to be something good for you? It seems like Basch is willing to give this a try, so why can you not do the same? Do you _want_ to be alone?"

Aralenne closed her eyes. Her cousin's words struck too many nerves. And Ashe, knowing Aralenne all too well, knew it too.

"You already know the Captain," Ashe said quietly, reaching out and running a comforting hand through her cousin's hair. "Why don't you get to know the _man_ before you say no?"

Silence.

Aralenne sighed.

"All right… " she said hesitantly, sitting up and propping herself up on her elbows while her cousin's face immediately lit up with a bright grin, "if I give this a chance… if I give Basch a chance, and I get to know him, will it keep you and Uncle off my back with this whole 'marriage' issue, at least for a little awhile?"

Ashe replied at once by sticking out her hand, to which Aralenne grasped, exhaling with relief.

"Cousin, you've got yourself a deal!" She declared, shaking her hand so enthusiastically that Aralenne began to fear for the well-being of her arm.

"Shallwe swear on Faram?" Aralenne joked, quickly pulling her hand out of her cousin's grasp before Ashe could shake her arm off.

Quickly they exited the thicket, wandering across the grass and onto the cobblestone path.

"Look," Ashe began, "I'm going to go tell Father the good news, and in the mean time," she patted her shoulder, "_you_ can go find the good Captain!"

"But-but-" Aralenne sputtered, rendered speechless by her cousin's declaration. As Ashe darted off, she shook her head before making her towards the opposite corner of the garden. 'I can talk to Basch later,' she thought exasperatedly. 'Right now I have to get my head together and think upon the consequences of what I've just done.'

**-XII-**

Ashe darted through garden's entrance and made a beeline for her father's study. On her way there, who should she run into…

But Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg.

Ashe swerved neatly to avoid a collision with the armor-clad man.

"Princess," he said, looking down at her, "have you seen the Lady Aralenne, by chance?"

'Speak of the devil,' Ashe thought evilly, suppressing the smirk that threatened to form. "Yes, as a matter of fact I just saw her in the garden a few minutes ago. She should still be there, actually. East corner."

'Now Lenne won't have an excuse to avoid him,' she thought inwardly. She nearly laughed at what she perceived to be her own brilliance. 'How I love playing matchmaker.'

"Thank you, Princess," he said, bowing his head before making his way past her. Ashe stared after him quizzically with a raised eyebrow, noticing that the Captain had looked very preoccupied.

"Oh dear, I hope he's not having second thoughts about this," she muttered anxiously, before spinning on her heel and rushing toward the stairs.

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat in one of the biggest trees in the garden. Although on the lowest branch, she was suspended almost eight feet off the ground. One of her legs was bent at the knee in front of her, bare foot settling on the smooth bark, while the other dangled off the branch, uncovered by the dress almost up to her thigh, revealing a tantalizing amount of creamy flesh.

Her chin rested on her elbow, which in turn rested upon her knee. Aralenne sighed. While the tree could be a great hiding place, she knew she couldn't hide in it forever. What on earth had possessed her to agree with Ashe?

Her mind told her it was guilt. Her uncle had taken her in when she had nowhere to go, raised her as his own, and brought her up like the Dalmascan royalty that she was. He had never once complained about nor voiced regret for his decision. In her heart, Aralenne knew that she owed him a lot more than just a simple thank you.

Her fingers found the navy blue sash that dangled from bow's knot at the front of her dress. She wrung it anxiously, knowing that she was making this situation a bigger deal than it was. But was she really blowing it out of proportion? This was _marriage_. It was a binding thing. She would have to live with this person for the rest of her life.

Still, she couldn't help being thankful for her uncle deciding on a man she actually liked and got along well with. What if he had picked _Vossler_? She shuddered inwardly. Just the _thought_ of being married to Vossler Azelas alone was enough to make her want to move to Jahara with Garif to live out a more simpler existence.

And it wasn't as if Basch were a _complete_ stranger. But with how little she really knew about him, he could have been.

She didn't know much about his past. Not many did. The few who probably did know were Uncle Raminas and Vossler. Maybe even a few members of the Order. She never bothered to ask him. She knew he fled from Landis after it been overrun by Archadia. He never spoke of his homeland save for a few rare moments, but even in those moments there was never any talk about family.

Aralenne had come to Dalmasca ten years ago; Basch had arrived there only half a year before she had. Throughout the years, she watched him rise above his common blood and become a great Captain of Dalmasca, with countless victories and heroic deeds on the battlefield.

He certainly wasn't a repulsive-looking man. And he _certainly_ didn't look his age. Now that she really thought about it, Aralenne thought that Basch was actually quite handsome for a man in his early thirties.

Wait.

_Early thirties… _

A jolt of realization suddenly ran through her. 'Wait, wait, wait. I'm nineteen years old_… He_ is thirty-four.' Then she anxiously began ticking off the numbers on her fingers. 'That means he's about, thirteen, fourteen, _**fifteen **_years older than I am! I came here when I was _nine_, he was _twenty-four _at the time!' She thought with panic. Then her mind really began to race. 'What if he's only doing this as favor to Uncle? Does he even want to marry at _all_? It's one thing to be placed in a relationship with someone and then resolving to make the most out of it… But what if he doesn't want to? I don't want to be trapped in a loveless relationship… Even though we've always gotten along pretty well over the past ten years… But I've changed so much. And I know he has too… What if we're both too changed to accept each other in marriage?'

Aralenne sighed, leaned forward, putting her forehead against her knee. She wished Ashe had never left her, because this was usually what happened when she had problems she wanted to avoid thinking about and was left to her own company during that time. Thoughts and feelings would worm their way up into her mind, festering and growing until there was nothing but anxiety and her own weaknesses.

'Why must this be so hard?'

**-XII-**

Meanwhile, Basch wandered through the garden, eyes skimming around, trying to spot Aralenne. He walked towards the northwest corner, remembering from his strolls in the garden over the years that she frequented that spot quite often.

When he reached the vicinity, she was nowhere to be found. He ran a hand through his golden hair nervously, frowning slightly. Raminas had confessed to him earlier that he had finally told Aralenne about the proposal, so Basch's immediate thought was that the girl was, most likely, avoiding him. This was made all the more probable by the fact that he had seen neither hide nor hair of her since the reception. A few times he could have sworn he had seen her out of the corner of his eye, but when he always turned to look she was never there.

Sighing, he looked around once more, his blue eyes scanning over the roses, the waterfall, the tree, the fountain-

The tree. Basch looked up a bit more to find Aralenne sitting on a branch, almost eight feet in the air. His eyes wandered down to the bare leg that hung in the air.

'I guess it's now or never,' he thought determinedly as he made his way towards her, pausing only to pluck a long-stemmed flower off a nearby shrub.

She seemed unaware of his presence, even as he stood directly below her and the branch.

'I'm a Captain,' he thought to himself, 'if I can win battles I can most certainly talk to a woman.'

But who was to say they weren't one in the same?

Lifting his right arm, he ran the blue petals of the flower along the underside of her bare foot.

**-XII-**

When Aralenne felt something crawling along the bottom of her foot, that female fear of insects instantly kicked in.

"Aaaah!"

She jerked her foot forward, which didn't turn out to be such a good idea. Instantly she felt herself falling, tumbling straight to the-

She felt the breath being knocked out of her lungs, and her body nearly curled into a fetal postion.

Someone had caught her.

Despite her heart wanting to burst out of her chest, Aralenne breathed a sigh of relief. Before she could turn her head and thank her savior, a deep chuckle reverberated next to her temple.

"That was a close one, wouldn't you say?"

Aralenne froze. A familiar, gauntleted arm was looped under her knees, and another under her back. Aralenne's _own_ arms happened to be wrapped around…

"Captain!" She let out a nervous laugh, staring into his amused face. What was it with this man and getting amusement on her behalf? "Um… hello."

He set her down gently on her feet, and she quickly removed her arms from his neck. Then she realized just how short she was compared to him. He stood almost a foot taller than her. She sidestepped around him to pick up her sandals off the ground.

"Do you have a moment?" He asked her carefully, turning around to face her.

"Of course," she replied, nervousness suddenly sparking up within her. She stepped around him once more, not meeting his eyes as she set foot on the cobblestone path. Inhaling softly, Aralenne lifted her head in resolve.

"All the time in the world."

**-XII-**

So, what'd you guys think? Just a note: for first time readers, this is actually a different version of the prologue than what everyone else has read. I went back and did a _**major**_ re-edit because much of what I had originally written could have been written a lot better. I've got a better writing style with this story than when I first started, and that's mostly due to the fact that I've got a good grasp of the characters now, and I know the direction the story's going in.

Yes, Aralenne and Rasler are being immature at the breakfast table at the beginning, and Rasler's possibly OOC, but it's a celebration and they can get away it. It's also a fanfic; crazy stuff can happen, shhhh… ;) But the chapter does start off by saying _'Abandoning royal protocol and etiquette alike…' _They have a brother/sister/prankster relationship, and that really wasn't portrayed in the original version, so I changed it. And I talk a lot with one of my reviewers, metalmuffin, and she brought up a good point to me awhile ago when I was voicing my woes to her about the characters acting too… out of character. She told me that it was moments like that that made the characters seem more real. One point she brought up to me: if her strategy guide didn't tell her that Ashe had been 19 during the game, she would've thought she was much older, due to the fact that she's so serious all the time. Anyways, I just thought she brought up a good point. Try and keep that in mind if you think they're being a little OOC lol.

I decided not to be too descriptive with the new version of Aralenne's reception dress because I wanted to leave it up to the reader's imagination this time. It was also for my benefit; if I put too much detail about a particular outfit in my writing I'm incredibly tempted to draw it… And since nearly every outfit in FFXII has an incredible amount of detail, I decided to spare myself the headache. Yeah, I was lazy this time around. I might get around to drawing it one day, but until then…


	2. Prologue: In Love and War

The reception for this story is better than I could ever ask for. It's just totally blown me away. But here's the second part of the prologue for you. It won't be as light-hearted as the last one either; it's after the wedding, which means there's a war and a funeral coming up next.

Another quick notice: I tried my best to make sure this prologue didn't turn out as long as the last one… And didn't succeed. I honestly thought this chapter would be shorter, but I was wrong. I cut out a bunch of material, which will make their appearances as flashbacks in later chapters. Why didn't I make another prologue? I don't know. I have every single chapter named and planned out, and breaking up this prologue would break the continuity, and yeah… As a result, some parts of this chapter might seem rushed. After taking some parts of the chapter out, I had actually had to rewrite some parts so that they would flow around the missing scenes. I'm apologizing now if it doesn't flow write. (bows to readers)

**Anonymous reviewer: **I'm glad you liked the way I portrayed Rasler; I always pictured him to be around Ashe's age, or 18 or 19 at the least. (You gotta admit, the guy looks _young_. I was showing one of my friends the intro to XII and when we hit that close up of his face she said, 'he looks like he's 12.') I know I didn't go into too much depth on it, but Aralenne's relationship with Rasler is like brother and sister; they _love_ to tease each other, and never miss a chance to do it. I did my best to portray Basch in a believable manner, but we don't really know how any of the characters were before the war, (plus he can be a hard character to write sometimes!)

**Laguna's twin sister: **Thanks for your review, it was very much appreciated. And thanks for your tip about the author's notes. Go ask Vossler, ha ha. I think Vossler would probably have a seizure at the thought. He seems like he's already married to his captainship anyway.

**rawhsucker: **Thank yooooou! I heart compliments! But just to warn you, this part won't be so cute…

**sakura-angel113: **Glad to know you don't think Aralenne sounds mary-sueish. It's always a relief to hear that, lol. As I've been saying, Eyes on Me just seemed to fit. It's not my favorite FF song but it is a good song. I'll probably be putting a couple more FF ones in here, like 1000 Words and of course, Kiss Me Goodbye.

**Lady-DarkHuntress: **Is this soon enough for you? :) It's great to know you like it, I hope this chapter is just as good. But, this is where everything goes bad…

**IlHaK: **Thanks for your compliments. I was thinking Aralenne was a bit sueish at first, but I don't think I could've written it any other way, and I don't think I would have _wanted_ to write it any other way. But, I'm glad you loved it all the same and I hope you feel the same way about this chapter. :)

**Dreamhare: **Yeah, the dancing scene was very awkward for me to write, and I think it did help actually. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

**xjesybrex: **Here ya go!

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and read the story so far. And an even bigger thanks for adding it to your favorite stories and story alerts.

Prologue: In Love and War

**-XII-**

_I can't believe this moment's come  
It's so incredible that we're alone  
There's so much to be said and done  
It's impossible not to be overcome _

_Will you forgive me if I feel this way?  
Cause we've just met - tell me that's okay_

_So take this feeling'n make it grow __  
__Never let it - never let it go…_

**-XII-**

"Well," Aralenne began, "I was born here in Dalmasca; my mother, Deryssa, fell in love with Marius, a nobleman from Rozarria. They married when my mother found out she was pregnant. I don't know why, but my father's family didn't really approve of their marriage. As a result, I have never met any family on my father's side.

My parents didn't stay in Rabanastre long after I was born. We spent a lot of our days traveling all over Ivalice, in my father's airship. By the time I was five we had traveled to nearly every place on the continents. We settled down on the Phon Coast after awhile; my mother said it was a beautiful place to raise a child. It was quiet, but it wasn't that far from civilization; there was a hunter's camp not far from where we lived. I'd wake up every morning, go for a swim in the ocean, and--am I talking too much?"

"Not at all."

Basch and Aralenne walked side by side through the city of Rabanastre. It was nearly noon, and they had been strolling throughout the city for quite some time. For Basch, it had been quite awhile since he had seen the sights of the city, so it had been a welcome relief when the King had given him the morning off to go for a walk with Aralenne. However, they both knew the King had _other_ reasons for giving him the morning off.

Ever since the two of them had gone to the King a few weeks ago, asking him for time before agreeing to his proposal, Raminas had taken nearly every opportunity to get them together. He had arranged private breakfasts and dinners for the two of them in the gardens, to which Aralenne had been reluctant about at first; not because she was opposed to the idea of dining with the Captain, but because it would be difficult to explain to her Nabradian cousin why she would not be showing up at meals. Luckily she hadn't heard a peep out of him so far. Most likely Ashe had seen to that.

Thank Faram for wonderful cousins.

"You were saying?" Basch asked.

Aralenne snapped out of her reverie. "Oh! Um, yes, I, uh-

Basch chuckled at her speech impediment. Aralenne flushed with embarrassment.

"It happens to the best of us," he assured her, remembering how hard it was to find his voice when the King had propositioned him in the garden.

"Uh, where was I?" Aralenne mumbled to herself. "Oh, well, after going for a swim, my mother and I would walk along the coastline, sometimes for hours, just to see what we could find in the sand…" She paused, remembering the fond memories of her childhood. A part of her wished she could relive them again, just once more.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied. "It's just--it was a nice life," she finished lamely, brushing some hair behind her ear. "It was peaceful, and… Sometimes I just wish I could have it back."

"I know what you mean," Basch answered, his mind filling recollections of Landis, before it had been ravaged by the empire. Of a mother and brother he had left behind when he fled the country in the middle of the night.

They came to the central plaza, where you could find the gates to Giza, the Estersand, and the Westersand. Aralenne sat down on the edge of a fountain, a few feet away from an upbeat looking moogle with a bright yellow pom-pom.

Basch continued standing, his hands behind his back, surveying the plaza and its occupants. Humes, seeqs, bangaa, and a viera or two littered the square. He turned his attention back to Aralenne, who was watching the moogle, now joined by another with pink pom-pom, do a cheerful little jig. She smiled, looking up at Basch, who returned the gesture.

'I hope you can enjoy this peace while you can Aralenne,' he thought grimly. 'With Archadia and Rozarria on the warpath, it may not last for long…'

_**A few hours later…**_

After their tour through the city, Aralenne and Basch had arrived back at the palace. He had just enough time to escort her upstairs before returning back to his duties as captain.

"So, I will see you at dinner this evening?" She asked, somewhat hopefully, when they were about to part ways.

"If the King has his way, then yes," he replied, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead.

When Basch was out of sight, Aralenne put a hand on her forehead. Instantly a ridiculous and bright grin plastered itself across her face.

"When are you just going to say 'yes' and accept the proposal?" A voice said behind her.

The silly expression on her face instantly annihilated itself. Her hand immediately dropped from her forehead and she spun around to see Rasler making his way out of one of the side rooms.

"When are you going to stop nosing about my affairs, brother?" She replied back, walking towards her room.

"Come on Lenne, you know it's only because I care," he said. "He makes you happy. Or _happier_, at least. I can tell."

"Your powers of observation continue to serve you well Rasler," she answered back as they rounded a corner, "but I think I can make my own decisions about this."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. But when I turn out to be right…"

"Then I give you my full consent to boast about it," she said, unlocking the door to her room. "But until then…"

She shut the door in his face with a smirk. He sighed.

"Women," he muttered.

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat in the gardens, her hands in her lap, staring into the dark water of a small pond. Night had fallen over Dalmasca, the stars dotting the black sky like tiny diamonds. She exhaled slowly.

"_I'm sorry my lady," the servant had told her just a few hours earlier, "but the Captain cannot make it to dinner tonight. He is being detained in an important meeting with the rest of the Order in the war room. He sends his sincerest apologies."_

She had no idea why she felt so conflicted about the cancellation. Maybe she had gotten so used to this routine over the past few weeks that it threw her off balance. And it wasn't as if Basch _had_ to have dinner with her everynight…

'What in the name of Raithwall is happening to me?' She thought, as a glowing blue butterfly fluttered in front of her vision.

'Am I starting to depend on him? Is he really affecting me in such a way that I cannot see it with my own eyes?'

Aralenne lifted her right hand into the air, her index finger extended slightly. The butterfly landed on the pad of her finger, the flutter of its wings slowing down. The antennae faintly tickled her finger, the glow of its wings flaring up and dimming back down. Flicking her finger outward, the tiny creature took off into the night. She lowered her arm.

Aralenne's eyes followed the path of the butterfly, twisting her body to watch it flitter down the garden path. Past the fountain, past the rose bushes…

Past Basch.

Aralenne's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. He walked towards her calmly, and without thinking she immediately reached out her hand, her extended fingers pale in the moonlight. He took it when he was in reach of her, curling his fingers around her hand and pulling her up from the ground.

"I thought you might still be up," he said, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Is it that late?" She asked, looking up at him and frowning slightly.

"Not quite--the meeting ended not too long ago, and I had the feeling you were still awake. Naturally, I came here."

"Hmm," was her quiet reply, and she looked up at the sky. "The stars were bright tonight, and I did not feel tired." Aralenne raked her gaze over the stars, very much aware of her hand still being held in a warm grasp. She didn't want to tell Basch that was only a part of the reason she stood out here. She came out here because she had felt conflicted, not just to stargaze.

"So how did the meeting go?" She asked him, as he stared out across the garden. He was silent for a moment before answering.

"Why don't you come with me to my quarters?" He suggested. "I'd rather not discuss it out here."

If Aralenne had not spent the past weeks with Basch she would never have caught the flicker of uneasiness that passed briefly across his features.

"All right."

**-XII-**

"Archadia is continuing their westward march," Basch said, rolling up maps and charts that cluttered the table and putting them in their appropriate drawer. "We fear that Dalmasca -standing between them and Rozarria- will be caught in the crossfire."

Aralenne sighed. "I wish they would just leave us out of their war. This won't end well."

"What makes you say that?" He asked curiously.

"War never does," she answered simply. "Families get torn apart, lives get ruined, people die… Archadia has an large army and an even larger airship fleet; and that's something that not even we can compete with."

She stood up abruptly, walking out on his balcony. Basch followed hesitantly behind. Aralenne shivered slightly.

"Already the nights are growing colder," she said quietly. "Why is this happening?"

Basch put a hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her.

"Things will turn out all right in the end. You'll see."

Aralenne nodded, trying her hardest to believe him. She looked up at the dark horizon to the north. Then she saw it.

A brilliant flash of blinding light. A mere pinpoint in the dark. But she saw it.

"Did you see that?" She gasped, leaning far over the railing. Basch quickly grabbed her arm incase she leaned too far over the railing.

"See what?" He asked bewilderedly.

"That--that light, that light that just flashed across the horizon!" She pointed out towards the north, turning her head and looking at him with an anxious expression.

"Didn't you see it?"

"Aralenne, I saw nothing," Basch said calmly. "Are you sure you did not imagine it?"

"N-no," she answered weakly, looking back at the sky once more. "It was just this small flash in the distance, but it was there." She fell silent, averting her eyes from the horizon. "Do you think I'm seeing things?" She asked quietly.

Basch exhaled tiredly, and surprised himself by putting his arms around her waist. Luckily she did not object to it.

"I believe you," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "But I also believe you are tired and putting yourself under unnecessary stress."

"But, I am _not_-"

"Aralenne," he said knowingly.

"Fine," she grumbled, acquiescing quickly. "Maybe I am tired, but… I know what I saw."

"I believe you," he repeated firmly.

Aralenne slumped, her shoulders dropping as if something weighed heavily on them. Her mind was overwhelmed with she had just seen. She didn't know why she felt so strongly about a simple flash on the horizon, it could have been anything. Some natural phenomenon. She tried to let her mind wander, to forget about what she saw, to anything except that small flash in the distance.

**-XII-**

It was early in the morning when the news came to Rabanastre. Basch was the first to see the haggard looking messenger on a completely exhausted chocobo. As the poor man gasped out the news, his mouth fell open in shock.

Nabradia had fallen, and Nabudis was dead.

**-XII-**

Aralenne walked through the halls of the palace frowning at the impending mayhem. Servants darted around the hallways, muttering to themselves and generally looking quite distressed.

'I go out on Giza for half the day and already the end of the world has arrived,' she thought derisively.

"Excuse me," she said, waving down a passing servant. "Have you seen Captain Ronsenburg, by any chance?"

"He should be in his quarters ma'am," they replied hurriedly, before dashing off like a mad cockatrice. Quirking an eyebrow at the strange behavior, Aralenne made for the stairs, her boots clicking loudly on the marble.

Arriving at Basch's quarters, she was puzzled to find the door hanging wide open. Walking into the study, she spotted the bedroom door open also.

"All right Captain Ronsenburg," she said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms casually, "where's the apocalypse?"

Basch pulled a few maps from his dresser before replying with, "you mean you haven't heard? Where have you _been_?"

Aralenne raised her eyebrows, momentarily speechless from his tone of voice. "I've been out in Giza, visiting the villagers…" She took a small, hesitant step into the room. "What's going on? What's happened?"

Basch didn't even glance at her as he continued shuffling around his room. "Nabradia has fallen underneath Archadia's warpath. Nabudis is completely destroyed. There is nothing left there."

"What?" Aralenne was stunned at this news. "Destroyed? How? I don't-"

"I mean there is nothing left of its former glory. The lands surrounding it are dead--some massively destructive Archadian weapon, is what they are saying."

"So what are you doing? If Nabradia has fallen, surely-"

Basch once again cut her off. "The King has given us orders to secure Nalbina fortress. We leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" She squawked indignantly.

"How long do you suggest we wait?" He said, stopping with what he was doing. He looked her square in the eyes determinedly. "When Lord Rasler married the Lady Ashe it signified a lasting alliance between Dalmasca and Nabradia; we _must_ go to their aid, however hopeless the battle might seem."

"Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better," she retorted bitingly. "Knowing that you are gallivanting off to fight a 'hopeless' battle."

"It is not just me. Lord Rasler is coming also. Vossler will be staying here, incase something should happen."

This bit of information surprised her. So her new cousin was also going off to battle also. She wondered how Ashe was taking this…

'I can't lose him…' She thought despairingly. 'Not now. What would I do if…'

Aralenne leaned against the wall, arms hanging limply at her sides. She sighed and looked down at the floor, knowing it would be useless to try and sway the resolute captain. After all, he did swear an oath to her uncle… It wasn't something he could just break, not even if he wanted to. Not even for her.

She felt two hands rest heavily on her shoulders. She looked up into Basch's face, his eyes holding something between pity and guilt.

"Don't be like this Aralenne," he said, his thumbs rubbing small circles into her shoulders, as if to sooth her. "I know you are strong to handle this situation sensibly."

"I know," she admitted, "but I don't want to face reality."

"Why? Do you doubt my skill in battle?" He questioned, almost accusingly.

"It is not your skill in battle that I doubt," she responded hastily, "just the sanity of my uncle. Obviously this fight is folly; why does he send you and Rasler to secure a doomed fortress?"

"Now you are jumping to conclusions," he said, straightening and removing his hands from her person. "This fight is not entirely hopeless."

"To you maybe," she replied, "but not to me."

"Do you doubt us that much?" He asked.

"Call me old-fashioned," she snapped, "needlessly sacrificing lives does not appeal to me."

"I think you should put a little more faith in myself and the army," he said in a steely tone. "We are not so easily defeated as you might think."

Aralenne's defensive walls came up immediately. "Well, I am sorry that you feel as if I don't believe in Dalmasca," she said coldly. "The fact is Archadia outnumbers us by thousands. I'm trying to face _reality_," her voice raised slightly. "Because in _reality_,_ I_ can't marry a dead man!"

She sighed before walking out of the room.

Basch put a hand on his forehead. What had just happened? How did their simple conversation get out of hand like that? He heaved a sigh before going to sit at his desk, going over the maps of Nalbina Fortress and making sure his battle plans were foolproof. As his hand moved deftly over the parchment, quill in hand, Aralenne's parting words came to mind:

'…_I'm trying to face reality…Because in reality I can't marry a dead man!'_

He set down the quill, propping his chin up on his hand.

'…_I'm trying to face reality…'_

Basch stared at his battle plans, his vision sliding out of focus as he stared at the papers.

'_I can't marry a dead man!'_

His head snapped up with a sharp intake of breath, all traces of contemplation gone from his face.

"What did she mean by that?" He whispered to himself.

"What did who mean?"

Basch looked to the doorway to see Vossler. He put all thoughts of Aralenne in the back of his mind -determined to find her later- and focused all of his energy on the upcoming battle.

**-XII-**

Night had fallen over Dalmasca. The stars were not as bright as they usually were. Perhaps they knew that war was coming.

Basch had finished all of his final preparations for Nalbina; from making sure the troops were well supplied to making sure the King and the rest of Rabanastre had a strong guard to protect the city should the battle go awry.

After everything had been taken care of, he had hastily went off to find Aralenne. The only problem: he couldn't find her.

He had checked in the gardens, the chocobo stables, the battle arena, the piano room, and even _her _room, but she was nowhere to be found. The guards had told him that she hadn't ventured out of the palace, so she had to be around somewhere. Ashe and Rasler didn't know where she was, and neither did Raminas. He checked the garden a second time before heading back into the palace.

He decided to go back to his room. If Aralenne really did not want to be found there was no way he'd be able to locate her. He resolved to find her first thing in the morning. He knew that she would not miss the opportunity to see him and the rest of the army off. Yes. He would find her tomorrow.

Unlocking the door to his chambers, he stepped inside and closed the door, locking it from the inside. Hanging the key on a hook next to the frame, and he turned around, intending to put some light into the room, but then he realized he didn't have to. The window in his study was open. The moonlight shone in clearly through it. A few candles on his desk were lit. And Aralenne sat in the chair.

He simply stared into her seemingly angelic face. Did it look that way because of the soft candlelight that illuminated her features? Or was it because that was her true face? He couldn't tell for sure.

She stood up, and began to hesitantly make her way towards him.

"I've been waiting for you to come back," she said quietly, brushing some hair out of her face.

Basch was completely silent. He couldn't figure out anything to say. In the back of his mind he wondered briefly how she managed to get into his rooms while they were locked. She stopped in front of him, standing a few feet away.

"I um," she lifted a hand to the back of her neck. "I wanted to apologize. To you, I mean. I… I should not have said what I did." She fell silent. "I just… When I think about you going off to Nalbina… I want to panic."

"Why?" He asked, slightly surprised.

"You _know_ why," she said, looking up at him. "You cannot pretend this battle will only be a small skirmish; lives will be lost. Maybe Rasler's. Maybe yours. I've already lost my parents, Basch. I don't want to lose my fiancé too." Her voice wavered slightly, but he caught it, stepping towards her and lifting her face into his hands. He leaned close to her.

"No Imperial soldier is going to kill me," he growled. "You are not going to lose me to-wait," he stopped suddenly, pulling back away from her face slightly. "You just said-"

"Fiancé," She supplied for him. Butterflies sprung up in her stomach "I know."

His hands fell away from her face to rest on her shoulders. He looked at her in wonder and realization.

"So that means you-"

"Yes," she answered, "it does."

Basch shook his head, trying to clear away the confusion that clouded his mind. "Why did you suddenly decide to agree to your uncle's proposition?" He asked, utterly perplexed. "Is it because of _Nalbina_, Aralenne? Is that it?" She didn't answer. He continued on. "Are you so afraid of losing me that you just spontaneously decided to _marry_ me?"

"You make it sound as if I haven't thought this through," she said, crossing her arms and her face taking on a childish pout, knowing he would not be able to stay cross with her if she acted like a child. "I've given this a great deal of consideration Basch, I am not being impulsive."

"Then what is going on?" He asked earnestly. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Aralenne exhaled wearily, linking her hands delicately behind her back. "I have… I've realized that… You only get one chance at life. I don't want to waste mine. That is why…" She faltered a bit. She stepped closer to him, laying a hand on his chest. Basch wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

"That's why I want my chance to be with you. That is, if you want it to be."

May the gods have mercy on him. She looked so vulnerable, standing there before him. Basch knew that it must have taken all of her courage to come out and say the things she just admitted.

"Are you sure?" He asked, uncertainly, finally regaining his ability to speak. "That this is what you truly want?"

She nodded. "It is."

He took her left hand in his, lifting it up, into the light. Her ring finger was slender and pale, and of course, completely devoid of the trinket that was now supposed to be adorned there.

"Then I guess I should get a ring on that finger."

**-XII-**

The next day the entire Dalmascan army gathered in front of the palace. Airships, chocobos, foot soldiers, both bangaa, seeq, and hume alike were assembling in orderly groups on the street.

Aralenne stood with Ashe at the top of the stone steps, surveying the vast army that stood before her. Looking at the massive assemblage of soldiers before her, she suddenly felt ill. Would it really take this many of her people to secure a tiny fortress?

Raminas presented Rasler with a sword that had been heirloom of their family for generations. Ashe gazed at her husband with longing as he accepted the weapon with pride. Aralenne took an elegant bow and a quiver from a nearby servant. She walked over to Basch and held out the quiver full to the brim of white-feathered arrows. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he took it, sliding and buckling the tanned straps around his armored torso.

"This bow was my father's," she told him, lifting the heavy wooden bow out into the sun. The silver fixtures that adorned the bow glittered beautifully in the sunlight. "It will serve you well."

"I know it will," he answered, taking the weapon in his gloved hand.

Aralenne stepped forward, sliding her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Basch wrapped his arms around her waist gently. She lifted her left hand slightly, the silver band that adorned her ring finger sparkling in the sun.

"Tell me you'll come back," she whispered.

He nodded into hair, taking in the intoxicating aroma. "I will."

"Promise me."

He inhaled deeply. "I promise Lenne."

Her arms gripped him tighter, unwilling to let go.

The crowd of soldiers roared out their battle cry as Rasler raised his sword high in the air.

"Everything will be fine," he told her softly, wondering why -in the back of his mind- it was suddenly so hard to believe his own words.

**-XII-**

Days had passed since the army had left for Nalbina.

No messengers.

No news.

Nothing.

Aralenne had gone about her life like an airship on auto-pilot. Wake up, eat, occupy her day with some kind of meaningless activity, and go to sleep. Today she sat in front of the piano, moving her fingers over the ivory keys of a new piece of music she had found in the library. Looking at the complicated string of notes, she looked at the keys, trying to judge what it would sound like when she played them.

Flexing her fingers, she pressed down on the keys, but no pleasant sound came out. The deafening sound of a horn blasted into the room.

Aralenne's head jerked towards the source of the sound. The horn blared out again, and it was only then that she figured it out. A smile came to her face and she shot up off the bench and out of the room.

Taking the shortest route possible, Aralenne dashed through the halls, uncaring of how undignified she probably looked.

Coming to stop at the palace doors, she wrapped her hands around the giant handle and pulled as hard as she could, not wanting to wait for the guards to open the door for her. Sliding out through the small opening she made, she made her way to the top of the stones steps. What she saw nearly made her heart stop.

Out of the dozens of airships deployed to Nalbina, only a few remained.

Out of the thousands of soldiers dispatched to the border, only a few hundred survived.

Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd for any sign of Basch. Her heart leapt as she saw him step out of a Dalmascan transport. He looked battle worn, exhausted, and if her observations were correct, melancholy. Making her way down the steps, she stopped halfway as she saw him carrying a body in his arms.

A body.

White armor.

Rasler.

Dead.

Ashe…

Aralenne felt her heart constrict painfully. Basch looked up and saw her standing there innocently on the steps, her long hair being blown around her face by the slight breeze that had picked up. He looked away from her, concentrating on the body he was carrying in his tired limbs.

Making his way up the steps, he walked straight past Aralenne, purposely not meeting her eyes, afraid of what he would see in those hazel irises.

Sadness.

Accusation.

Shame.

Guilt overwhelmed him more than he could put into words. He couldn't save Rasler. He saw the soldier, he tried to stop him from releasing that arrow. And he failed.

Aralenne followed numbly up the steps. She heard a commotion coming from behind the doors. She quickly flew up the steps, her feet moving deftly over the stone.

Ashe was pushing her way through a crowd of her servants, who were trying to prevent her from going outside and seeing what despair awaited her.

Basch carried the prince past everyone, who quickly parted to make way for him. The horrified whispers of servants reached his ears.

And so did the cries of a distraught princess, which cut into him deeper than any blade ever could.

**-XII-**

A rainy day.

A funeral.

Aralenne could only stare as the priest said the words that made this situation seem so much more final. As Ashe kneeled by the coffin of her deceased husband, Aralenne grasped Basch's hand, linking her fingers with his. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"…there you shall find peace… Faram."

**-XII-**

Archadia put forth terms of peace. Terms of Dalmasca's surrender.

Aralenne and Ashe watched with heavy hearts as their King reluctantly set out for Nalbina to affix his seal to the emperor's treaty, reminding himself all the while that this was for Dalmasca's sake. If he didn't agree to this, the Empire would ravage his country until it was naught but a pile of stones.

As Aralenne watched her uncle set off with his escort, she wondered how Basch would take this. Both he and Vossler had been out securing the borders of Dalmasca for almost a week and a half. Chances were they knew nothing of what was happening to their country at the moment.

And sure enough, they had arrived home the next morning. Aralenne had been the one to break the news.

They didn't trust that the King's escort had been enough. They gathered up what members of the Order they could, and made plans to set off for the fortress before dark.

And that did not sit well with Aralenne at all.

**-XII-**

"Why must I be left behind?" Aralenne protested vehemently. "He's _my_ uncle; I have as much of a right to go to Nalbina as you do. I can _fight_, you _know_ I can."

"It is not a question of whether you can fight or not," Basch answered back stubbornly.

"Yes it is!" She said, crossing her arms obstinately. She glared at the floor, as if it were the cause of her all her woes. "If I were born a man you would not object to this," she mumbled.

Her words did not have the desired effect she had wanted. Instead of making Basch feel guilty, she only gave him something to laugh about.

"Aralenne, if you were born a man, we would not be engaged, much less having this conversation at all."

Aralenne huffed and took a step backwards, hitting a wall. And her head.

"Ow…" She whined, rubbing her skull tenderly. Basch stepped forward, taking her hand in his.

"You are such a child," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips.

"Sorry," she said flatly, almost as if she were being scolded.

He chuckled. "It's not a bad thing Aralenne. Quite the contrary. It helps keep me on my toes."

"Well, I'm glad I could be of service," she replied, cracking a small smile. He lifted her hand from his lips to his cheek, angling her hand so that it cradled his face. He stared into her eyes, a smoldering gaze that suddenly made her want to melt into a puddle.

"I hate it when you do that," she stated, breaking the silence.

He broke into a devilish smile. "Why?"

"It makes me feel like I could agree to anything."

"Anything? Really?"

Aralenne raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at now?"

"Please don't do anything rash," he said quietly.

"Such as…?"

"Such as trying to follow us to Nalbina," he said firmly.

She scoffed, trying to pull her hand away from him. He didn't let it go.

"Aralenne, do you think I could live with myself if you were hurt?" He whispered. The way he said it made her want to cringe, not with fright, but from the guilt she now realized she was causing him. "Do you think I could _stand _it?"

Aralenne averted her eyes to the floor. She bit lower lip as the implication of his words hit her. Basch sighed softly and pulled her close to him. So much had been lost already. What more could be taken from them?

"Basch!" Vossler's voice called down the hall. "Let's go!"

Aralenne inhaled sharply and tightened her hold on him. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, stepping away from her. She tried to follow but his hands prevented her from moving. She looked up at him imploringly. He released her and turned to go. Before she knew what came over her she grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss.

Basch was surprised. She had never been one to initiate things like this.

But he was never one to complain.

He took full advantage of the warm lips that had parted beneath his, exploring his fiancée's mouth with a passion he thought had died within him long ago. He kept it gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her. She tasted like strawberries.

So this was what heaven felt like.

When he pulled away she whimpered softly.

"Please don't follow me tonight," he said breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers. "Wait for me."

Soon, other members of the Order shuffled past the niche were they stood, armor jangling and weapons clinking together. Basch stared out into the hall and then turned his attention back to her. He pulled her into another kiss, and she complied. This time it was demanding and insistent. It was a crushing, bruising kiss that left Aralenne nearly out of breath. When Basch pulled away he quickly removed her hands from him. He turned and strode away from her, knowing that the longer he stayed with her, the more reluctant he would be to leave.

"Don't-"

The words were lost on Aralenne as Basch rounded the corner and was gone. She leaned against the wall in defeat, sliding down to the floor. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she put her head in her arms, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

She heard a light shuffling noise, too light to be a man. Aralenne paid it no attention. When she heard the rustling of thick fabric she lifted her head up slightly, only to feel a pair of slender arms wrap themselves around her.

Aralenne twisted slightly to bury her face in Ashe's shoulder, gripping her cousin tightly. Ashe rubbed her back soothingly, trying to comfort her cousin in the same way Aralenne used to comfort her when they were children.

"It's all right Lenne," she whispered, resting her chin on top of her cousin's head. "I'm here."

**-XII-**

Aralenne and Ashe occupied the empty cathedral of Rabanastre. Ashe sat on the cold marble floor of Rasler's tomb, her legs curled up underneath her gray skirt. She kept her eyes to the floor and her hands nestled in her lap. Aralenne, however, was pacing back forth, her face lined with worry. After a few more minutes of silence between them, she spoke up.

"I don't like this. Standing around here, waiting for something to happen. I feel utterly useless."

Ashe said nothing, she just ran her hand over the plaque of the tomb.

"Are you just content like this Ashelia?" Aralenne said furiously, stopping the pacing and standing over her. "Can you just wait around like this?"

"What am I supposed to do?" She asked calmly, not looking up at the woman standing above her. "I'm not like you Lenne. I'm not a person of action the way you are. I'm not… strong enough."

Her cousin sighed, crossing her arms, a habit becoming common for her lately. "I want to do something. I _have_ to do something. I fee like I should be there, fighting beside them."

"Do you love him?" Ashe interrupted.

Aralenne blinked, absolutely taken aback by the question. "What?"

"Do you love him?" Ashe repeated.

"Well that's incredibly rude," she replied, flushing slightly. "Why are you asking me this?"

"It is a very simple question--do you love him or not?"

"How should I know?" She asked. "I've never been in love, I have no idea what it is supposed to feel like."

"You just…" Ashe exhaled softly, looking down at her hands, then at the tombstone in front of her. "You just know."

Aralenne looked away, unable to look at her cousin. "What should I do? I mean… What am I _supposed_ to do?"

"Go," Ashe insisted. "Tell him how you feel. You have to say how you feel or else no one _knows_ how you feel. That's what my mother used to say."

"She was right," Aralenne whispered, her lips barely moving. She turned around slowly, inhaling deeply. "I trust you will be fine?"

"Of course," she replied. "Don't feel ashamed about leaving me, Lenne," she added, catching sight of her cousin's worried expression. "I can take care of myself. You just do what you feel you need to do."

"All right," she replied, resigning herself to what she was about to do.

Aralenne gave her Ashe a quick hug, Rasler's tomb a quick glance, and began to make her way out of the cathedral.

She wouldn't see her cousin again after that night.

Not for two, long years.

**-XII-**

It was dark in Nalbina Fortress. The moon shone bright in the sky. Had Captains' Basch fon Ronsenburg and Vossler York Azelas not been leading their men on such a dangerous mission it would have been quite a peaceful night.

They fought their way through countless Imperials, heedless of what would await them at the end of the night.

When a wave of twenty or so Imperials ambushed the rescue party, it went in the Order's favor once again. But not without help from an unlikely source.

Basch watched in disbelief as a lone soldier, and a short one at that, turned on its fellows. The blows from their sword fell mercilessly, until not one of their comrades was left standing.

After that occurrence Basch took the opportunity to advance on the soldier, and, raising his sword, prepared to strike the person down.

"Basch stop!"

He hesitated.

'No,' he thought, 'it's not possible.'

His hesitation was just long enough for the person to quickly unbuckle their helmet and throw it to the ground.

Long, reddish brown hair spilled out over shoulders covered in Imperial armor.

"Lenne?!"

**-XII-**

"I told you not to follow us here!" Basch seethed, struggling not to raise his voice.

When the party of soldiers had gotten over the shock of seeing the young woman, Basch dragged her off to the side, but not before she took her time in unstrapping every single piece of Imperial armor she wore. Only after every last piece of metal was removed did everyone behold the suit of Dalmascan light armor that she wore, akin to that of which Basch and Vossler had on, only tailored for a female.

"I know you did," she answered calmly, a little too calm for the situation. "But I did it anyway. I knew you needed another sword. It looks as if I was right."

"You deliberately disobeyed me!" He hissed angrily.

"I know," she said with guilt, "and I'm sorry. I know that I said I would wait for you. But I couldn't wait, no matter how hard I tried."

Basch rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Please don't be angry," she whispered, reaching out touching his arm.

Another sigh. "I'm not _angry_ with you Aralenne, I just…" He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He didn't even want to _think_ of the King's reaction when he saw that Basch had 'brought' his precious niece along on a dangerous mission. "You could've been _hurt_. Masquerading as an Imperial was not exactly the smartest idea. We could have killed you."

She shrugged. "It was the only way I could get in undetected. I didn't _enjoy_ wearing all of that bulky armor you know." She gave him a lopsided grin, hoping the gesture would get him to lighten up a bit. It didn't.

"Come _on_, give me a _little_ credit here!" She nearly pouted. "It wasn't exactly _easy_ dispatching a group of Imperials without attracting attention, stealing their armor, and then finding another group of soldiers to join that wouldn't question my whereabouts!"

"Did you kill them?" He asked. Basch obviously wasn't enthusiastic at the thought of his future wife taking on the role of a soldier. He didn't think women should have to kill. They shouldn't have to take lives to defend their own.

"Unfortunately no," she answered, clearly not thrilled about it. "But I _did_ knock them out pretty good, not to mention I cast slow and sleep on each of them a couple of times. They won't be getting up anytime soon. In other words, they're punch-drunk on magic." She looked up at him, smiling brightly.

Basch's expression still didn't change. "This still doesn't sit well with me," he said firmly. Aralenne's face fell as her attempts to improve his mood fell flat.

"I understand," she answered quietly, "but I'm here to stay."

"Now is not the time to chastise her," Vossler interrupted, advancing towards them. "If she is uninjured and can fight then we must move out quickly."

The party moved as swiftly through the fortress as they could. Eventually they stopped for a small rest as Basch tried to awaken an unconscious soldier they had found lying by a wall. Aralenne turned her gaze away from the teenager as Basch asked him who he was. The boy was seventeen. She was only two years his senior. Yet here they both were, fighting for Dalmasca.

She gazed at Vossler, who she could see was clearly agitated at being slowed down.

"Try and relax," she told, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We are all in this together."

He nodded, his wandering to Basch and the young soldier, Reks.

"It's time Basch!" He called impatiently. "Save the discussion for later!" He looked up at the looming fortress in front of him, his expression hardening. "We must reach the King before they act! Or all our efforts will be in vain."

"I'm aware of the situation," Basch said calmly.

A loud racket suddenly came from the entrance of the fortress. Everyone's heads quickly turned as a group of Imperials poured out.

"Vossler go ahead! I will handle this rabble."

"By yourself?" Aralenne's eyes widened.

He ignored her question. "Lenne, I want you to go with him," he said to her, his eyes still on the soldiers.

"Why?"

"Because I want to make sure that no one else decides to follow us. Go with him, and I'll meet you in the signing hall. After that, we'll start making our way back home."

"Back home…" She whispered to herself. Inside this dark, dead fortress, the prospect suddenly sounded very appealing. She nodded reluctantly. "All right." Vossler stood a few feet away, waiting for her to come with him. "I'll wait for you this time," she grinned, before taking the hand that Vossler held out for her.

"Godspeed," the man told him, and they turned away, making their way past the soldiers as they ran through the gate.

Basch slaughtered the soldiers that came his way, and watched with a heavy heart as his fiancée disappeared into the darkness of Nalbina.

**-XII-**

Vossler, Aralenne, and few others ran through the silent and empty halls, all inwardly hoping they weren't too late. They proceeded up several flights of stairs unaware of the tragedy that awaited them inside the signing hall. They shoved open the doors to a grim and macabre scene.

The bodies of dead soldiers littered the floor, blood leaking from everyone of them. They looked towards the head of the room. Time seemed to stop as they gazed on with a numb shock.

Her uncle.

Their King.

Dead.

They were too late.

**-XII-**

Aralenne staggered out of the hall, clutching her stomach and struggling against the urge to vomit. She could hardly comprehend what she had just witnessed. She dimly heard Vossler and the others speaking in the hall. What they were saying was beyond her.

Her uncle was dead. All these long years he had been a father to her. Now she had no one to look to for the advice that parents were supposed to give. Her heart was so painfully constricted that it felt hard to breathe. She didn't even have the urge to cry, the devastation was so great.

It took Vossler many impatient minutes to snap Aralenne out of her blank state. He shook her hard until her head snapped up to look at him.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered.

"We do nothing," he gritted out, gripping her shoulders tightly and looking absolutely beside himself. "Aralenne, listen to me. The King is dead. The fortress is _taken_. It is over. We've _lost_. There's no hope left for us. We must go back to Dalmasca, _now_."

Her weariness melted away instantly. "Wh-what do you mean? We can't leave, we have to go find Basch!"

"_Look_," he said heatedly, "We do not have time for-"

"I am _not _leaving without Basch!" She exclaimed, her voice rising. He turned away from her. "Can you honestly just leave him here?"

"He can take care of himself," he answered shortly. "Right now we must concern ourselves with the safety of Dalmasca."

"Vossler, please!" She pleaded desperately, grabbing his arm and not letting him go. She dug the heels of her boots into the thick carpet of the hallway to try and prevent him from leaving.

He whirled around to shove her off him, but stopped immediately when he saw her face. Aralenne was close to her tears, and her hands trembled even as she gripped his arm tightly.

"Vossler, please," she repeated again, her voice quivered with desperation this time. "Please, I've never asked _anything _of you. I can't do this alone, I need your help." Her eyes welled up with tears as she kept her eyes on his shoulder, her fingers clasped around his arm.

Vossler only gazed at her with an expression torn between pity and guilt-ridden sadness. But in his eyes finality was written quite plainly and clearly. With a gentle hand, he deftly released her hold on his arm. She gasped slightly and looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Please don't," she cried, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. "Don't leave me here. Don't make me fight alone."

"I'm sorry," he said grimly. He stepped away from her and continued on his way. Aralenne watched him leave with red, disbelieving eyes.

"Vossler!" She wailed agonizingly.

But he didn't come back.

And all she could do was stand there, not wanting to believe that a man she had known almost her life had just abandoned her.

Then, shouting, and the clash of swords. The sounds of a fierce struggle.

"Basch," she whispered.

Aralenne ran. She ran as fast her feet would carry her. She followed the sound of swords desperately. She desperately wanted to call out his name, but feared making the situation more worse than it already was.

Rounding another corner in the hall, Aralenne stopped dead in her tracks.

A rather large group of Imperials surrounded an enraged Basch. It took almost five soldiers to restrain him. It was only when they finally forced him to his knees that he almost seemed to accept defeat. As they chained his arms behind his back, he looked up despairingly…

Only to see Aralenne.

His mouth fell open in shock, eyes widening slightly. She stood at the far end of the hallway ahead of him. No one noticed her; their attention was on him, on each other. He stared hopelessly into her eyes, trying to express what he could not convey to her himself.

_Lenne… I'm so sorry… I couldn't…_

_Please forgive me._

_And now, more than __**anything**…_

_You need to run._

Aralenne's hand reached for the hilt of the sword on her back.

His heart stopped as he realized what her intentions were.

"NO!" Basch threw his weight forward, a last attempt to break away from his captors.

She immediately stopped, but her hand still gripped the handle. Her eyes were wide with alarm and confusion.

Basch's panic increased when the soldiers looked in the direction of Aralenne's devastated form, and even more when they started for her.

She took a step forward, preparing to draw her sword.

"Aralenne!" He bellowed. "No!"

"What?" She whispered, halting her advance.

"Get out of here!" He yelled, struggling violently against the chains. "Just get out of here!"

Aralenne's terrified eyes were focused so much on Basch that she neither noticed nor heard another man come slowly up behind her; a man, who was so much like her fiancé that if she had she been able to see his face, it would have stunned her beyond shock.

When Basch caught sight of the person behind Aralenne, he suddenly stopped in his futile attempt at struggling. They raised their sword up high-

"No don't!" He shouted.

She slowly turned her head. But before she caught sight of the man who had just brought her country to its knees, the hilt of a sword came arcing down, slamming into the base of her skull with a deafening crack.

White flashed across her vision, then black, and she fell.

**-XII-**

_Sorrow, sank deep inside my blood  
All the ones around me,  
I cared for  
And most of all  
I loved  
But I can't see myself that way  
Please don't forget me  
Or cry while I'm away_

_Cry alone, I've gone away  
No more nights, no more pain  
I've gone alone, took all my strength  
But I've made the change,  
I won't see you tonight_

_So far away, I'm gone.  
Please don't follow me tonight  
And while I'm gone,  
Everything will be alright_

**-XII-**

Well, here's the second half of the prologue. I actually worked backwards when writing this; I started at the end and kinda worked my way up to the beginning. I'm the kinda writer that writes down the parts I've imagined first and then I fill in the gaps. (And sometimes it's a good thing, other times…) But, as to what happens next… Well, you'll just have to wait and see. As for the man who knocked Aralenne out, you probably already figured out who _that _was. She'll have an interesting relationship with him throughout the story, so stay tuned!


	3. I: Prisoners of the Empire

Ugh, school is taking over my life more than I thought it would. A big thanks to all my reviewers who patiently waited for this chapter. Once again, you guys continue to amaze me. I dedicate this chapter to all the people who reviewed, added it to their story alerts/favorites, read it without flaming, or just plain read it. But down to business.

And also, I've gone back and re-edited the first two chapters. Not any major differences, just took some minor things out. I've decided to make a playlist of the songs that have been in the chapters so far, and will have more added to it as the chapters start coming out. The list will be on my profile.

**rawhsucker: **Every day? Damn, now I feel bad for making you wait so long! Nevertheless, the rest of the chapters definitely won't be as long as the two prologues, and will be much easier to get up.

**Connie: **I think I'll be able to fit her in the FFXII universe pretty well. At least I hope so.

**Light Saber Muffins: **I don't remember if I sent you a review reply or not, but here's the chapter! Sorry you had to wait so long!

**-XII-**

Chapter 1 Prisoners of the Empire

-**XII-**

_In this world you tried  
Not leaving me alone behind  
There's no other way  
I'll pray to the gods, let him stay  
The memories ease the pain inside,  
Now I know why_

_All of my memories keep you near  
In silent moments  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories keep you near,  
Your silent whispers, silent tears…_

**-XII-**

"_Raminas, my old friend. It has been too long."_

_Night had fallen in Bhujerba as the King of Dalmasca was quietly and discreetly escorted into the estate of Halim Ondore IV. _

"_I am sorry for your loss. Your sister, she…"_

_Basch allowed himself to block out the depressing words of the Marquis. Not even half a year in Dalmasca and already he was chosen to be a member of the King's personal escort. His friend and fellow soldier, Vossler Azelas, had the same privilege, but he had elected to stay behind in Dalmasca to guard the young Princess Ashe. As a result, Basch was now the highest ranking officer of the group. The only disappointment he suffered was that it had to come on such an unhappy occasion._

_News of the disaster that struck the King's sister and her husband on the Phon Coast had spread quickly enough. The Marquis had been the first to reach the scene before people starting amassing there; he spirited away Raminas' young niece back to Bhujerba, where she had been waiting for him ever since._

"_Where is my niece?" The King asked quietly._

"_I sent her to the Skygrounds with one of my guards. She is not taking this as well as we would hope. Not once have I seen her cry. Those who grieve the most usually do not grieve at all."_

"_Will she be all right in the long run, do you think?"_

"_I hope so. The pain will slowly fade, with time. As long as she sees…"_

_Basch turned his head away from the conversation, briefly thinking of his own family. The one he left behind in the middle of the night. Feelings of shame and guilt briefly flooded his mind as his brother's face swam into view. _

"_Basch?"_

_He lifted his head up. "Yes my lord?"_

"_I would like you to go to the Skygrounds to get my niece. I just…" The King faltered slightly, his face lined with what Basch thought to be worry. _

"_I just have a few things to finish up here. Then we will go back home."_

_Nodding, Basch soon left the Ondore estate, only pausing to ask one of the guards to point him in the way of the Khus Skygrounds. _

_Bhujerba was dark and silent, for the occasional Sainikah patrolling the streets. The glow from the bracketed torches that lined the stone walls flickered in the light breeze. A perfect picture of tranquility._

_Arriving at his destination, Basch looked over to the guard that was standing by the wall. He nodded his head, letting the man know that he would take it from here. He turned his head towards the steps, his eyes raking over every detail._

_And then he saw her standing there. A small figure silhouetted against the moon, cloak blowing in the breeze._

_The King's niece. _

_Aralenne._

Aralenne…

Basch's heart lifted slightly at the dream. He blinked his eyes slowly. A sliver pain passed through his forehead, but he paid it no attention. A deep, red gash ran across his left eyebrow and down his ear; what would soon to be a scar across his once handsome face. The blood had already dried and congealed, and as result, he felt little pain.

But what was pain to him now? He was a broken man now, lost everything that he held dear. His country, his king, his honor…

And his fiancée.

The breath forced itself from his lungs, as if it could not sustain him. His heart ached for Aralenne. Where was she now? Was she rotting away in a dungeon as he was? Or worse, dead?

His heart constricted painfully in his chest. _Why_ did he send her with Vossler? Why didn't he just keep her by his side, the way they would have been had the Empire not ruined it?

He silently cursed his brother. And what was worse, he couldn't even blame his twin for hating him. But to pull Aralenne into this… He doubted very much that his brother knew of his engagement, much less his true feelings; not many did. But Gabranth saw the way he had reacted He closed eyes, remembering the rest of that night.

_His brother caught Aralenne in his arms as she fell. _

"_The King's niece… Princess Aralenne. What a fine prize she will make for the Empire."_

_Basch threw Gabranth a murderous look. "If you hurt her, I swear by the gods-"_

"_So this woman __**does**__ mean something to you…" He said slowly, looking down at the woman he cradled in his arms. "How… _

_Basch sucked in a sharp breath._

"_Wonderful."_

**-XII-**

"The King's niece? You are sure of this?"

"Without any doubt. The Captain seemed especially protective of her; that alone gave away her importance."

"Very well. But what did you think you had to gain by presenting her to my father?"

"I thought she might be useful in negotiations with Dalmasca. The people will not take this well; there will be resistance once the Empire takes full control. She may be of some use to us; with the rest of her family gone, she might be more cooperative."

"You seem to given this a great deal of thought… Very well then. You have earned your judge's armor."

**-XII-**

"My Lady."

Ashe turned her head away, resting a hand on the window sill. She stared off into the distance. A red sun was beginning to rise over Dalmasca. Soon its inhabitants would wake. Wake to learn what had befallen them during the night.

"My Lady, the Empire is approaching. We _must_ leave."

"Why?" She asked quietly. "My kingdom is dying. It only seems fitting that I stay and die with it."

"I know you do not mean that," Vossler pressed, his voice becoming desperate. "Please, I'm begging you, we will find a way to restore Dalmasca to its former glory; but we cannot do that if we are rotting in the Empire's dungeon."

Ashe was silent.

"What about Aralenne?"

The question came out of nowhere. If Vossler hadn't composed himself so well he would have immediately lost his resolve once the Lady Ashe's cousin was mentioned.

"I…"

His guilt had finally caught up with him.

"I don't know."

**-XII-**

"Keep moving, _Captain_," the guard leered, shoving him none too lightly along the dark and dank hallway of what was now the Nalbina Dungeons.

In a nondescript stone room they stripped him of everything he had. It was grudgingly, and with a heavy heart, that he slid the engagement band off his ring finger, dropping it into the gloved palm of an anonymous guard. On the other hand, his Captain's ring, bearing the emblem of Dalmasca, the letter 'B' in the center, and the date of his captainship on the inside of the band.

His sword had been taken away long before that. No telling where it was now. Not that it really mattered. He had nothing more to fight for. The King was no more, Dalmasca was gone, and Aralenne was…

It mattered not. Within a matter of days all of Ivalice would believe him a traitor. No one would send help for him. There was no chance of rescue, no hope of escape.

Memories were all he had left.

**-XII-**

"_This will need stitches," Aralenne told him softly, her eyes critically observing a deep gash on his left upper arm, a parting gift from Nalbina. She stood up, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and making for the cabinets on the opposite side of the wall._

"_Do not bother yourself with it Aralenne," Basch said, rolling the sleeve of his shirt down. "Just get me a potion will you?"_

_Aralenne turned to face him. "I don't think so. You need to let it heal naturally. The more you rely on potions and cure spells, the more dependent your body will be on them, thus slowing down your body's natural healing process." She began rummaging through the cabinet, pulling out various medical supplies. _

"_Take your shirt off for me will you?" She asked, pulling out a small stitching kit._

"_Excuse me?" He asked, slightly taken aback, unsure if he had heard her right._

"_Take. Off. Your. Shirt," she repeated firmly, setting everything down on the table next to him. _

"_I need to get something from my room--I expect that shirt to be removed from your person when I get back."_

_Basch gave a small sigh as she left the room, thinking it best not to argue with her. He removed his shirt carefully and folded it up neatly before setting it on the table. When Aralenne returned, she had a wooden jar in one hand and a ceramic bowl and kettle to match in the other._

_Setting it down, she took the kettle and poured what he realized was steaming hot water into the bowl. Pulling a white cloth from the somewhere on the table, she dropped it in the bowl, letting it soak completely._

"_You do not have to do this you know," Basch told her quietly, as she uncorked a small bottle and poured half of its contents into the bowl. _

"_I know I don't," she replied briskly, opening the kit and pulling out an impossibly thin needle and threading it with the stitching thread. "But I want to." She set the needle on the table and poured more water into the bowl, making it steam once more. _

"_But still-"_

"_Basch," she started, "if we're going to be married one day I suggest you adjust to this." She stopped what she was doing and looked him in the eyes. "I will not have some shoddy healer perform their latest sewing techniques on you. I know what I am doing."_

_She picked up the cloth from the bowl, wringing some of the water out of it. "I'm warning you, this is fairly hot, not to mention it will sting. I just really need to clean the wound before I stitch it."_

_Basch nodded. "Whatever you need."_

_She pulled up a stool beside him, setting herself to the task of cleaning his wound. An uncomfortable silence passed between them before Aralenne spoke up._

"_What's bothering you?" She asked suddenly, soaking the cloth in the hot water again. He watched as a reddish-pink swirl was left in its wake. "Basch?"_

_He came out of his thoughts. "It is nothing."_

_More silence, followed by a tired exhale._

"_Basch, what is it going to take for you to be honest with me?" She inclined her head slightly, looking up at him. He met her gaze, but said nothing._

"_Well?" She continued, running the cloth across the red line that marred his shoulder. She hated to bring up the marriage card again, but she felt she had no choice._

"_We're engaged you know. I'm certainly not going to force you to open up, but I just want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk to someone…" She put the cloth back in the bowl, drying her hands off before plucking a small vial off the table's wooden surface. She plucked another small square of cloth from the table and saturated half of it with the liquid from the vial. She wiped the stitching needle with it, and his cut also. He tensed as it stung the sore and red flesh._

_Leaning forward, she placed her index finger and thumb on both ends of the gash, and slowly began the long process of stitching his skin back together. From the uncomfortable silence that permeated the room, Aralenne guessed that Basch was not going to start talking any time soon. _

_Basch just sat there numbly, not feeling anything except for the occasional pinprick of pain from the needle piercing his flesh. His gaze slid down to Aralenne, who had bitten her bottom lip in concentration, carefully pulling the delicate thread towards her._

"_I could have saved him," he whispered._

"_Pardon?" She asked, pausing what she was doing to look up at him._

"_Lord Rasler," he answered, shaking his head. "I could have saved him."_

_So… this what the soldiers meant about losing their comrades in battle. Aralenne had heard it spoken of before. The men called it 'Survivor's Guilt.'_

_Aralenne laid a hand on his shoulder hesitantly. "You did what you could Basch. It wasn't your fault."_

"_No, I saw the soldier, and I shot him down. But it wasn't enough."_

"_You did the best you could," she countered, her voice getting hard, "and that is all I could expect to hope from __**any **__man." She continued sewing up his arm. _

"_You don't understand what it's like…"_

"_What what is like?" She asked, the anger seeping into her voice. "Death? Failure? Guilt? You assume too much; I know all too well what that is like."_

_Aralenne became slightly more forceful with the needle, jabbing it into his skin as if she were using it to try and get her point across._

"_Things happen, Basch, and we haven't figured out a way to make them unhappen. But if you think feeling sorry for yourself and letting the guilt consume your every thought then go ahead--make yourself miserable! I don't have problems with people who choose to ruin their own lives but don't think it makes you a hero!"_

_Basch was speechless, unable to find anything to say. He knew Aralenne voiced her opinion whenever she deemed it necessary; he had seen others be on the receiving end of her outbursts_

"_I know what it's like to feel helpless, Basch," she told him, her voice returning to its soft tone, "but you cannot let it overcome you like this." After she finished speaking she quickly tied off the thread and snipped off the rest. _

"_All finished," She proclaimed, the barest hint of pride in her voice. _

_Basch immediately reached for his shirt, and Aralenne swatted his hand away. "Easy there, soldier." She reached for the wooden jar and unscrewed the lid. Immediately the pungent scent of flowers hit his nose, a sweet smell that nearly overwhelmed his senses._

"_I know, it used to have that effect on me too." Aralenne smiled slightly as she dipped her fingers into the mixture and ran them over the stitched wound. "It was made by the Viera."_

"_Viera?" Basch questioned, looking down at her. "Then how did you come across it? The Bazaar?"_

"_Hardly," she chuckled. "It was given to me by a hunter in Clan Centurio. A Viera who left the Wood. She gave the salve to me as gift and instructed me to 'use it wisely'."_

"_Then you should not have wasted it on me," Basch replied._

"_Nonsense." Aralenne screwed the lid back on the jar. She surveyed her work. "That should help speed the healing process. You're good to go Captain."_

"_Aralenne, you spoil me," Basch told her as she began to clean up._

_She laughed lightly. "Well, you deserve it."_

"_I think you deserve something for taking good care of me," he said, his eyes following her as she moved about._

"_I don't want anything," she answered back, a little too quickly than she would have liked. A slight flush appeared on her cheeks._

"_You are certain? _

_Basch wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, pulling her down gently. She nearly shivered when she felt his hot breath on the side of her face._

"_How about a kiss?" He whispered in her ear._

_Aralenne froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't have time to answer as his other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into his lap as he pressed his cool lips against hers._

_Immediately liking the feeling, she wrapped an arm around his neck, and Basch smiled knowingly against her lips. He ran his hand up her back, dragging his fingers lazily up her spine and tangling into her hair, making Aralenne shiver involuntarily. After that his lips began to venture elsewhere, to her temple, to the side of her face, and down to her neck. _

_Basch stopped when he felt her relax against him and her breaths start to grow ragged. She immediately felt deprived when he pulled away. And that wasn't all he had robbed her of._

"_Aralenne," he said, grinning at her speechlessness, "if we're going to be married one day I suggest you adjust to this." _

**-XII-**

'It's just a memory now,' she thought, twirling the band around her finger. 'That's all they are.'

Aralenne put her head in her arms, and not for the first time. Locked in a small and brightly lit brig of an Archadian airship, she fought the urge to cry. Her arms trembled, and she wrapped them even tighter around her knees.

'I'm not strong enough for this Basch,' she thought hopelessly. 'I can't do this. I can't be strong, not anymore. I wish you were here. I wish _anyone _were here, just so I wouldn't have to feel alone anymore.'

She was a prisoner of war now. Bound for Archadia herself. Aralenne wondered what would happen once they reached the Empire. Would they walk her down the streets during their victory celebration? Show her off as some Dalmascan trophy? She nearly became sick at the thought of it.

Aralenne's head jerked up when she felt a bulkhead grate open.

A dark, intimidating figure stood in the doorway. A black cloak swirled out from behind them. Intricate and heavy armor surrounded nearly every inch of this person. Two horns jutted out from both sides of the helmet, making the figure look even more demonic.

This was a Judge Magister.

She wanted to shrink back into a corner as the daunting figure jerked her to her feet, none too gently.

And that was how it was. Then Judge led her through a series of bending and twisting corridors, suffering no nonsense from her as she tried to pull her arm out of their grasp, insisting she could walk by herself. Aralenne was finally led to an outside deck, where she was shackled around the wrists, both of them connected by a chain. She nearly balked as a soldier tried to bind her neck in a heavy manacle, but the judge impeded him, not saying a word as he held out his hand in a stopping gesture. A guard soon came and said they were coming up on Archadia. Aralenne looked up, past the armored soldiers and other airships, to behold an extraordinary sight.

A fantastical and architectural wonder greeted her eyes, and for a moment she nearly forgot why she was here. The sun was coming up on the horizon, illuminating the enormous city in a golden red halo, not blinding, but not gentle either.

So…

This was the Empire.

**-XII-**

_Looking back on the memory of  
The dance we shared 'neath the stars above  
For a moment all the world was right  
How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye_

_And now I'm glad I didn't know  
The way it all would end, the way it all would go  
Our lives are better left to chance  
I could have missed the pain  
But I'd have had to miss the dance_

**-XII-**

Wow! It's finally finished. Once again, I apologize for taking so long to get this up. You guys are the best. Chances are I'm going to go back and rewrite this, but I just wanted to get this long awaited chapter up. Let me know what you guys think.


	4. II: A Guest in Archadia

Thank you guys so much for your reviews last chapter! I apologize to anyone who left a signed review that I didn't reply to. I don't remember who I replied to and who I didn't, so I just wanna thank everyone for reviewing and for your comments on the story, they really touched me. Oh, and due to the fact that I'm such a nitpicker, I've gone back through and re-edited the first three chapters. Again. I added a scene with Ashe and Vossler in the last chapter, and changed some things in the two prologues. The 2nd prologue is probably the one with the most changes to it, just to let you know.

Got a bit of writer's block with this chapter, so that's why it took me so long to get it up. My FF7 muse also began to get its groove back on, so I began to focus my attention on that. But, I knew that I had a duty to you guys, so I resolved to get this chapter up before the New Year. I know I've said that I would try not to make the gaps between updates so long, so I guess I've failed in that respect. If or when any of you review, just get on my case about it. But don't be mean about it, or I just might make you wait on purpose. :)

**-XII-**

Chapter 2 A Guest in Archadia

**-XII-**

_She seemed dressed in all of me __  
Stretched across my shame  
All the torment and the pain  
Leaked through and covered me_

_I'd do anything to have her to myself  
Just to have her for myself  
Now I don't know what to do  
I don't know what to do  
When she makes me sad…_

**-XII-**

"Basch?"

Basch fon Ronsenburg lifted his head up painfully, the muscles in his neck groaning in protest. He knew that voice.

"Aralenne?"

The pain in his neck was so excruciating that it began to affect his vision. A blinding white haze seemed to settle over everything, slowly blocking out every detail until there was nothing left.

"Basch?" The voice called again.

"I can't see you," he said desperately. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here."

Trying almost in vain to get his vision to focus, he blinked a few times, shaking his head a little to clear his mind.

A familiar form was making its way through the whiteness, taking small, delicate steps towards him, eyes twinkling with mirth.

_Hello there…_

"Lenne?" Basch nearly sighed in relief. Thank the Gods. She was alive.

But was she doing here?

It seemed is if Aralenne was dressed in the blinding whiteness that surrounded her. She flashed him a brilliant smile, and he nearly found his heart breaking. If only he could reach out and touch her…

_The angel from my nightmare…_

He held her gaze for as long as he possibly could, not wanting to blink out of fear that he may have been dreaming.

'Say something,' he begged inwardly. 'Say _anything_. Please, just let me hear your voice again.'

Aralenne cocked her head slightly, her expression utterly imploring his attention. That was when the whiteness started to fade. Basch frowned.

"Basch?"

_The shadow in the background of the morgue…_

The pinpoint of darkness grew larger, slowly enveloping her from behind, until the radiant glow she was covered in had almost completely diminished.

_The unsuspecting victim…_

"What's the matter?" She asked, oblivious to the darkness and his growing panic. "Is something wrong?"

The shadow slowly coalesced into the shape of a dark figure. Basch could make out the silhouette of armor, and a helmet.

_Of darkness in the valley…_

A helmet with a look so demonic standing behind his fiancée that it chilled him to his very bones. He couldn't even move; not that he could move much in a cage anyway. He struggled against the iron shackles that secured him inside, his already bleeding wrists sending slivers of pain into his arms.

Then the sound of something cracking made him stop.

The scene before him seemed as if it had been made of glass. It began to fracture, splitting right down the middle, right where a smiling Aralenne and the dark, armored figure stood. A thousand tiny lines splintered out from the center, spidering across the picture.

Then, without warning, the illusion exploded, shattering into a million pieces. A shower of glittering shards flew everywhere, flashing in the light.

"No!"

**-XII-**

The Imperial soldiers outside of the chamber had heard everything.

"Poor bastard," a guard outside the oubliette tittered to his partner unsympathetically. "Hard to believe he's lost it so quickly."

"Tell me about it. Not even in there for two days and he's already talking to himself."

A moment of silence.

"Pity."

**-XII-**

The shackles were beginning to rub Aralenne's wrists raw. The iron bands were not meant to be worn around the slim joints of a female, which explained why they were slipping down and chafing the skin right above her wrists. She shifted the heavy cuffs off of her hands to lessen the pain… And earned a shove in the back for doing so.

Aralenne stopped short just in time to avoid colliding with the Judge Magister who stood in front of her. The armored figure calmly turned their head to look at her, and Aralenne straightened her posture immediately, looking away from the Judge.

Nearing the city of Archades, Aralenne let her eyes fall to the deck that she stood on. She didn't want to think about the possible fates that could await her here.

Servitude? Imprisonment? Death?

Would she be slated as the next Imperial plaything? Some Archadian slave? Was she fated to live out the rest of her years in Archadian hands?

Lifting her head up, Aralenne noted that they were within the city boundaries now. She saw many small transports traversing through the air; no doubt civilians and nobles going about their daily lives. The airship she was on, however, drew closer to the center of Archades, where the tallest structures stood out from the rest of the city like a diamond stood out amongst a pile of rocks.

'That must be the palace,' she thought, as the airship began its descent into a private aerodrome. A group of soldiers were already waiting for them.

'More soldiers,' she thought lamely, as the airship landed. As soon as it hit the ground Aralenne felt a hand clamp around her upper arm and jerk her towards the exit ramp.

The person didn't stop once to talk to any of the guards, as the man, person, whoever they were, led her out of the airship and onto the landing platform.

"Are you going to throw me in the dungeon now?" She asked, anxious to know where she was being led off to.

No answer.

"I _know_ you can hear me," she pressed on, determined to get answer out of this Judge. "What are you-"

"I am taking you to the Emperor Gramis," came the abrupt reply. Aralenne was nearly taken aback at the cold, harsh tone. But that was soon forgotten as she realized that she had a bigger problem.

He was taking her to see the Emperor.

And as the Judge pulled her towards the palace entrance, suddenly, she was afraid.

**-XII-**

"_Everything will be fine," he whispered in her ear, running a gauntleted hand through her hair._

_Aralenne nodded into his shoulder, not wanting to release her hold on him just yet._

"_Basch, let's go!" Rasler called, beginning to make his way down the steps._

_Basch made to follow him, but found that he was being prevented from doing so. He lifted his hands to Aralenne's wrists._

"_Aralenne," he said sternly, "you're going to have to let me go sooner or later."_

"_Come on Aralenne," her cousin said impatiently. "We have a battle to win here!"_

_Reluctantly, Aralenne stepped away from Basch, her eyes downcast. As her fiancé kissed her forehead and walked away, she lifted the ever present thin chain from around her neck, holding the pearlescent stone into the light. She bit her lip, clenching the stone in her fist._

"_Basch!"_

_He turned around. _

_Aralenne tossed him the necklace, which he caught one-handedly. As soon as his fingers touched the surface of the stone feelings of peace and tranquility came over him. He looked at her questioningly._

"_That was my mother's," she informed him, looking him straight in the eyes. His expression was one of slight surprise. Understanding her words, he quickly slipped the chain over his head, tucking the stone underneath his armor._

"_And I want it back," she said, her heart thudding dully in her chest. She exhaled softly and looked at the stones beneath her feet. The skirt of her dress swirled around her ankles in the slight breeze. She didn't hear the clinking of armor until it stopped right in front of her._

_Basch took her face in his hands and lifted her head up to meet her eyes. "Cheer up Lenne. I'll come back before you know it. And I when I do, I'm going to marry you."_

_She smiled._

"_You bet you are."_

**-XII-**

Aralenne thought that the man who stood before her was one of the most intimidating men that she ever had the misfortune to meet. While he was dressed in armor, he was no Magister. Long, dark hair hung freely past his shoulders, and he wore immaculate white gloves on his hands.

Definitely royalty.

"Those can be removed," he told the guard, gesturing to the chains that bound Aralenne. "We are all civilized people, are we not?" The man looked at her, and she wanted to cringe. His expression was friendly enough, but his eyes were so sharp and piercing that she nearly shivered under his gaze.

She looked away from him as the guard pulled out a key and removed the iron shackles. Immediately her arms felt lighter than feathers. She cradled one of her sore wrists, rubbing it gently to soothe the pain.

"I apologize," the man continued, "I believe I have not introduced myself." He took a step forward, offering her his gloved hand. "Vayne Solidor."

Her eyes widened slightly.

_Vayne…_

_Solidor…?_

Aralenne was just barely aware of her blood quickening in her veins, of her heart thudding dully in her chest. Only one feeling remained in her head now.

Fear.

As the emotion lit up her brain, she suppressed a shudder.

_How many stories of violence and bloodshed had she heard about this man?_

_And how many of them were actually **true**?_

Still rubbing the tender flesh on one of her wrists, she made no move to take Vayne's hand. She eye it with fear and wariness, unconsciously pulling her wrist closer to her chest. Once Vayne saw that she was making no effort to be friendly, he drew his hand back.

"So," she answered slowly, pausing to choose her next words carefully. "You are the man who brought my country to its knees. And all in one night. Congratulations. You must think very highly of yourself."

His reaction was not what she had expected. Vayne merely smiled at her, an expression that more resembled a smirk, and did nothing to comfort her. "I beg your pardon, Lady Aralenne, but it was not _I_ who brought your country to its knees."

"But…" He paused for effect. "I suppose you will find out soon enough." Shooting a glance at the Judge who was escorting her, a wry grin came to his lips before he turned away from them. Motioning for the Judge to follow, they continued their way into the palace.

"My Lord, are you sure it is wise for her to walk without being restrained?" The Judge asked.

"Quite sure," he answered. "I do not believe she will do anything drastic." He stopped to face her. Aralenne nearly took a step backward. This was one man she did not want to be in close proximity with.

"No," he continued, turning back around, "I don't think she will."

Aralenne bit back the urge to retort 'what makes you so sure?', but decided against it. She was in the heart of the Empire now, with no one to save her. These people were not to be trifled with. She had to contemplate her every move before she made it.

Was it wrong of her not to fight back, if even if the attempt was futile?

'What would you do if you were in my situation Basch?' She thought. 'You wouldn't allow yourself be led around like an animal, that's for sure.'

**-XII-**

_Basch sat in the Dalmasca transport, his back against the wall. He closed his eyes, trying for a vain effort to relax and clear his mind before they arrived at Nalbina. Which wasn't that far away._

"_So…" Came a familiar voice. "You and Aralenne huh?"_

_A tired exhale. "Well, I'm sure I don't know what you mean."_

_"Sure you don't," Rasler laughed, "and that wasn't a wedding band I saw on her ring finger this morning."_

_Basch opened his eyes, only slightly wishing he hadn't. Rasler sat on the opposite site of the small transport, a wide grin spread across his face._

"_So when did she agree?" He pressed on. "Last night?"_

"_Not that it's any of your business," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning back once more, _"_but yes."_

"_Oh come now Basch, you know I'm happy for you both. Quit acting like an old man."_

"_Start respecting your elders," he shot back._

_An awkward silence passed between them. Then they laughed._

**-XII-**

Aralenne's mind was a total blank as she stood before the Emperor Gramis Gana Solidor.

This man… was the Emperor?

For some reason she pictured him to be younger. Not that it mattered. This man was the person who decided her fate. He decided whether she was able to live or die.

Her life was literally in his hands.

A thick silence was spread across the room like butter on bread. There were more people in here than she had anticipated. Four more Judge Magisters stood off to the side of the throne, and a group of robed and hooded men were grouped together on the opposite side. Aralenne stared at the Emperor with an expression torn between anxiety and defiance. No one said or did anything to interrupt the silence. She was only barely aware of the Magister that stood behind her, or of Vayne Solidor, who stood back by the doors.

The staring contest between the Emperor and Aralenne continued, until she blinked and crossed her arms.

"Child, I know you are upset-"

"Upset?" She repeated, as a fresh wave of disgust rose up inside he. She couldn't _believe_ this man. After everything she had just been through, this man had the nerve to act as if he _cared_. Aralenne scoffed.

"You know," she said, forcing herself to remain civil, "I used to get upset, when I couldn't play a piece of music in tune. I used to get upset, when my uncle tried to pressure me into marrying. I used to get _upset_," she gritted out, "when the Knights of the Order would drink the entire supply of my favorite wine in one night."

The uncomfortable silence suddenly grew more intense.

"So, if that's what 'upset' means, then how am I feeling _now_? If you know, then please Your Majesty, by all means, tell me, because I don't."

"I see that you do not intend to make this situation easier on yourself."

"Easier on myself?!" She cried out, causing many in the room to wince. "The only reason any of this is happening is because of you and your Empire! My uncle is _dead_ because of you!"

"Few people would dare speak to me the way you have just done now," he answered calmly, not reacting to her outburst.

"Do you honestly think I care? It will be nothing compared to what you'll face in Dalmasca! There will be revolts, riots! If you think your army can subdue the rebellions that are going to occur, be my guest."

"That is where you will come into play. If we instate you as ruler the people of Dalmasca will cease fighting and listen to reason."

"Impossible," Aralenne said at once. "Dalmasca has a blood heir; my cousin. The people would never accept it. _I_ don't even accept it!"

"You have no choice. Your cousin has already gone missing. Dalmasca has no other ruler."

"What use could you possibly have for a ruler?" she asked. "Is it your way of trying to maintain order and seem benevolent at the same time? Your efforts are wasted, Dalmasca is no more."

"While that may be, you are the daughter of the King's sister-"

"Who happens to be dead," she stated flatly.

"And what of your Rozarrian relatives?"

Aralenne tensed, becoming more on edge than she already was. How did he know of her Rozarrian blood?

Quickly pushing that thought aside, the mere fact that he inquired about them only meant one thing. The implication of the Emperor's words soon hit her as she came to a realization.

"If you have entertained the notion of using me as a bargaining tool against the Rozarrians, then give it up."

Whispers arose from the people around her. The Emperor held up his hand to silence them.

"Your father was a Rozarrian nobleman," he continued.

"Who was disowned from his family upon the moment they discovered he intended to marry my mother instead of the woman they chose for him. In their eyes, I am an illegitimate child who is worth _nothing_. Even if that did not hold true today, I have no proof of my lineage, therefore, I am useless to you."

It was a total lie. Back in Dalmasca, locked away under Aralenne's bed, was a sword that belonged to her father. That was alone was proof of her ancestry. She was told it had been passed down through his family for generations, and as such, it was priceless. It just one more thing that the Empire didn't need to get their hands on.

"Be that as it may, you are still a valuable asset to the Empire and will stay here for the time being until we can figure out a suitable compromise."

Aralenne's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Time _being_? How long do you plan on keeping me here?"

The Emperor disregarded her questions. "Judge Gabranth," he commanded, beckoning forth the Judge Magister, the same one, Aralenne noted, that had been with her on the airship. "Escort the Lady Aralenne to her room."

"Room?" She echoed. This was unheard of. She was a prisoner of war, and yet the Emperor Gramis, ruler of Archadia was putting her up in a room, right here in the palace!

As if she were nothing more than a guest.

"This is utterly insulting," she mumbled under her breath.

"My sincerest apologies," Gramis answered, his tone remaining calm and polite. "Would you prefer the dungeons instead?"

Aralenne didn't answer. She couldn't even muster up the courage to give the old man a glare, as childish as the gesture would have been. Feeling a familiar hand lock around her arm, she was quickly and quietly led out of the room. A shuffling movement by the wall caught her eye as the doors closed behind her.

It was a child. He couldn't have been any older than nine or ten. He had bright, curious eyes that were a striking shade of blue, and dark hair that nearly touched his shoulders. His clothes were too rich to be that of a servant, and he bore the emblem of House Solidor.

This boy was nobility.

Turning her head away, she allowed herself to be led up a winding staircase, keeping her eyes to the floor as she was navigated through a series of halls. They finally stopped before a pair of open double doors.

The hand released itself from her arm. She looked at the Judge, who said nothing to answer her questioning gaze. Hesitantly, she stepped forward into the room.

'It's too large,' she thought numbly as her eyes slid over the space. She took another step inside.

"I leave you with a fair warning," the Judge said from the doorway. "Should you attempt to escape, this room will have around the clock security. Should you think of using the windows, let me tell you now; you are hundreds of feet off of the ground. If you fall, you will die."

Aralenne looked around the dimly lit room with a feeling of helplessness. She turned around as she heard the doors begin to close.

"Please," she pleaded, her fingers desperately grasping the handles, "could you just-"

The doors were firmly shut in her face. She exhaled shakily, her head falling against her chest as the metallic scrape of a key being turned in the lock grated into her ears.

"…tell me where Captain Ronsenburg is?" She whispered, as her hands fell to her sides. Aralenne bit her lip as a familiar lump rose up in her throat. She sank to her knees, feeling utterly defeated and powerless.

'They're going to keep me here,' she thought with a numb realization. 'Who knows when I'll be able to see home again.'

But did she really want to?

There was nothing left. Her Uncle was dead, Basch was gone, Ashe was missing, and Vossler no doubt was with her. There was no one waiting for her.

'_I'll wait for you this time.' _The last words she said to Basch echoed in her head.

Aralenne bit her lip so hard it almost drew blood. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt the hot tears finally slide down her cheeks, as, for the first time since she was abandoned in Nalbina, she cried.

**-XII-**

_Please, please forgive me  
But I won't be home again  
Maybe someday you'll look up,  
And barely conscious, you'll say to no one:  
"Isn't something missing?"_

**-XII-**

Well, there you have it. Poor Basch, he misses Aralenne so much he's starting to hallucinate. The chapter was originally going to end with him, but I couldn't figure out a good enough concept for it, so Aralenne got the part instead. **A little factoid: **That little hallucination sequence was never planned on, I just sort of wrote it in there because I wanted the chapter to start with Basch. Now I realize that it actually sort of foreshadows an event that won't take place until way later in the story. Oh, and I mentioned Rozarria quite a bit towards the end. I'll tell you guys now that Aralenne's Rozarrian blood comes into play later on in the story. Though you may not see it now, I actually just gave you guys a major plot point.

And, let me just take the opportunity to say that the scenes with Vayne and the Emperor were possibly some of the hardest scenes I've had to write so far. It was just incredibly difficult to bring them into the chapter. I don't know why it was so awkward writing the scenes with them, but it just was. I have most of the story pretty much planned out, and what's going to go on in each chapter, but unfortunately this was one of the chapters I didn't plan out before I wrote it. I guess that's why I had such a hard time. Oh, and for the record, right now, this story has a grand total of 43 chapters, and that doesn't include the 2 prologues and epilogue. Chances are I might have to put in a few more. If you guys want the list of chapters and their names, I think I might put it on my profile. If you want it, speak up!


	5. III: Imperial Hospitality

Thank you guys for your reviews! It's such a great way to start off the New Year. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint all of you. You are what helps keep this story going. And a big thanks to everyone who's put this story on their favorites and story alerts, I appreciate it.

On another note, I think this must be my shortest chapter yet! I tried to make it as long as I could so that it didn't seem filler-ish, but I think I might go back and add more later. Rest assured, the next chapter will be longer.

**-XII-**

Chapter 3 Imperial Hospitality

**-XII-**

"When will our shift be over, do you know?"

"Why? Gettin' tired already?"

"Heck _naw_! I was just thinking' that we was needin' a break right around now."

"A break from standin' here all day? How soft have you gotten?"

"None at all! I'm just sayin, it's not very exciting' down here."

After a few more minutes of pointless banter, the two guards keeping watch outside the oubliette fell silent.

"So, uh, any word on Judge Zecht?"

"Nope. He's still missin'. From what I've heard down the grapevine he probably done went and offed himself."

"Poor bloke. I guess Nabudis really got to him."

"Well, annihilatin' a whole kingdom can 'ave that effect on some people."

"Pffft! Not me."

"That's a load of codswallop. I'd like to see what you'd do in a situation like that."

"Well we ain't never gonna find out are we?"

"What is going on here?" Another voice interjected.

"Just havin' a bit o' chit-chat Sir, seein' as how there ain't nothin' else much to do besides stand 'ere all day."

"I see… Well, these are your new orders. You are to take the prisoner to the whipping post."

"Whipping post?"

"That _is _what I said is it not? You'll have everything you need over there. Now get a move on."

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat by one of the windows on a cushioned ledge, her head propped up in her hands as she stared at the setting sun. She exhaled tiredly before closing the window.

She had been in this room all day, and had stared out of the window for the most part. Only hours earlier, it had been, with reluctance, that she had stripped out of the Dalmascan armor she wore in favor of a thin white dress that had been left in the room, draped over a chair. While Aralenne really hadn't wanted to put on something that her 'captors' had provided, she locked up her pride and did it anyway. And sitting around in armor wasn't exactly comfortable, even if said armor was designed for comfort.

'Comfort in battle maybe,' she thought, swinging her legs over the side of the ledge and standing up. 'And I did feel light as a feather once I changed.'

But, whereas the armor had kept her warm, the dress did not. Even though a long-sleeved robe had been set alongside the garment, it was thin and sheer, and did not prevent her from shivering every once in awhile. And she didn't have it in her to go lay on the bed and curl up beneath the covers.

'Damn my pride,' she thought. 'I can allow myself to come quietly when I am captured by the enemy, yet I cannot sleep in the bed they provide. Damn.'

Aralenne surveyed the room, and the melting candles that illuminated it. Perhaps the cold she felt wasn't related to the weather.

This whole place was cold. It was nothing like the warmth that Dalmasca radiated, here, in this place that seemed entirely dominated by politics and war.

What would they do with her? How long were they going to keep her here? What would happen when they realized she would refuse to cooperate? Aralenne tried to occupy her mind with more pleasant thoughts, but found that she couldn't. All thoughts led her back to Dalmasca. Her uncle. Her cousin. Vossler. Basch.

'What happened to you Basch?' She asked herself, starting to pace around. 'What did they do to you? Are you in a dungeon somewhere? Are you hurting, just as I am? Do you miss me? Is it possible that you could be…

'Dead?'

Aralenne shook her head. No. Basch couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

'Am I just fooling myself?' She thought. 'Could Basch _really_ be dead?'

Denial was both a wonderful and terrible thing all at once. Aralenne hated the feeling, the refusal to believe that he could be dead gave her hope.

And that was what she needed most right now.

She exhaled heavily, a sudden feeling of lightheadedness overcame her senses. She put a hand on the arm of a chair to steady herself.

"What's wrong with me?" She whispered. "Why do I feel so tired all of a sudden? Should I lay down?"

She sat down on a small couch, clutching her head. 'I'm more tired than I thought. Maybe I should… rest, for awhile…'

**-XII-**

Gabranth strode down the hall, his cloak billowing out behind him, making him possibly even more intimidating than normal. They straightened their posture upon his arrival.

"Haven't heard a peep out of her sir," one of the guards offered, gripping his spear tightly. He nearly cringed when the Magister's helmet turned towards him.

"You mean you haven't _checked _on her?" He asked in a cold voice.

The guard was speechless as the Judge pulled a key seemingly out of nowhere, unlocking the doors.

Gabranth stepped into the room, his armor chinking together. His eyes scanned over the entire space, not seeing any visible sign of her. He walked farther into the room, and nearly sighed when he saw her asleep on the couch. One of her hands had draped itself over the side, resulting in her fingers grazing the floor.

He stepped towards her, observing the sereneness of her features. Her chest rose and fell steadily with each breath she took. He frowned inside his helmet before turning away, his cloak swishing around his ankles.

After he relocked the door to her room, he turned his attention on the two guards.

"I want you to check on her every three to four hours to make sure she does not do anything drastic. The Emperor wants her alive, so make sure she doesn't try to kill herself anytime soon."

**-XII-**

Larsa sat at the dinner table, nearly bored to tears. He pushed his food around on his plate, fingering the remnants of his dinner with indifference as his father conversed with their most frequent dinner guest, Dr. Cid of the Draklor Laboratories.

"Does something trouble you, dear brother?"

Larsa nearly dropped his fork as Vayne startled him out of his boredom.

"Nothing troubles me," he began tentatively, setting his fork down on his plate. "I just don't feel very much like dinner tonight."

"Well that's not good," his brother replied. "Perhaps you need some more wine." Vayne began to call for a servant to bring more wine, but Larsa intercepted him.

"I don't feel very much like wine either, brother. Perhaps I could be excused?" He asked hopefully.

Vayne nodded, sliding a sideways glance at their father. "You can take your leave if you like. I will make your excuses. Try and clear your head, I don't want to hear that you are lacking in your studies tomorrow."

"Yes, brother."

**-XII-**

Larsa crept down the hallway, holding a tray carefully in his hands. Stopping at an alcove in the wall, he quickly unlocked a hidden door and stepped in the servants corridor. He turned left and continued on his way.

'Her room has to be one of these,' he thought, stuffing the filched servant keys back in his pocket.

After a few minutes of traversing the dark hall, he finally found his destination.

'Aha!' He nearly exclaimed aloud, 'it's this one!'

Larsa quietly unlocked the door and stepped in. He had to adjust his eyes to the darkness before he could take another step.

Larsa nearly pouted when he found that she was not awake. He had _really _wanted to talk to her. Stepping forward, he balanced the tray on one hand while grabbing a silk and velvet throw off the bed in the other. Setting the tray on the table next to the couch, he carefully draped the blanket over her.

She shifted slightly, burying her face in a pillow. Larsa watched her for a few minutes. She reminded him so much of his mother, if only she was awake! Maybe he could convince his father into having her let out for dinner tomorrow night. His mind told himself that she would be civil and not cause a fuss. He knew that he would not be allowed into this woman's chambers if he asked, so maybe dinner would be a good opportunity to talk to her.

'I just hope nothing goes wrong,' he thought, as he made his way out of the room.

-**XII-**

"In any case," Gabranth continued, "it seems that the young lord has taken a liking to her."

Gabranth was taking a stroll through the gardens with Judge Drace. He had been recounting to his fellow Judge on how he had seen Lord Larsa sneak a tray of food to the Dalmascan prisoner.

"To be honest, I am not surprised that he has," Drace admitted. "She bears a striking resemblance to his mother."

"Mother?" He echoed.

"Why certainly," came the female Magister's reply. "If you take a stroll through the library you will see portraits of her dotting the walls. The Emperor had them moved there after she… passed on."

"Hmm. That's very interesting. Do you think the Emperor should be told of his interest in the prisoner?"

"I think we can let this pass by without notification," Drace replied calmly. "He's only curious; he has a right to be. We've never had a prisoner be brought into the palace, especially not one with such a high profile as this. He's only a child, and though he's a very exceptional one, he doesn't understand what is going on. Let us just see how this situation progresses before we do anything."

"Aye."

**-XII-**

Basch had been ruthlessly yanked from his cage and shoved towards an unknown room. At least that god awful collar had been taken from around his neck. His shoulders felt incredibly light now.

"Well, well, well," one of them replied disdainfully as Basch was pushed into the room. "Look who it is."

Basch glared at the soldier. He laughed.

"You think you've known pain Captain? By tomorrow everyone will think you're a traitor."

"Yep," another one replied haughtily. "Right now, those rings of yours are on their way to Archades, along with a copy of the Marquis' new proclamation, saying that you're a traitor and a kingslayer, and that you've been executed. The receiver? That pretty little fiancée of yours."

Basch stiffened.

"That's right, scum," they leered, "by tomorrow all of Ivalice is going to think that you're a dead man, including that pretty little fiancée of yours."

Basch immediately tensed, every muscle in his body going rigid. His eyes were wide with realization.

"Aralenne? She's alive?"

"Yeah she's alive. Probably not for long though. As soon as they get tired of her up in Archades she'll be off to the gallows. Shame though. She was a looker if I ever saw one."

Basch instinctively jerked on the chains, trying to launch himself at the soldier. His chafed wrists screamed in protest against such harsh treatment, but he didn't care. If this impudent man thought he was just going to stand there and insult his fiancée, he had another thing coming.

"Wooh! Gettin' feisty there are we Captain?" He mocked, casually sidestepping away from Basch. "Looks like we're gonna need more guards."

It took two more guards to restrain Basch and force him down to his knees. He ended up cracking his chin on the post, so blood was now dripping heavily to the floor. Heavy footsteps approached the room, and his gaze slid up to see a particularly hostile-looking Seeq with an even more vicious-looking whip. He tried not to flinch at the cat o' nine tails the Seeq brandished in front of his face.

'This pain is nothing,' he told himself. 'It's nothing compared to what I've lost. It's _nothing_ compared to losing-'

He clenched his fists and tensed his muscles as he saw the shadow on the opposite wall raise the whip.

'Aralenne…'

Then the whip fell.

**-XII-**

Aralenne closed her eyes as a delicate breeze swirled the hem of her dress around her ankles. She inhaled deeply, the perfume of sea water penetrating her senses.

"Somewhere," she sang softly, "beyond the sea…"

The sky was beginning to darken on the Phon Coast as Aralenne slowly made her way to the water's edge, her delicate feet sinking into the white sand.

"Somewhere, waiting for me…"

"My lover stands on golden sands," another voice, far younger, joined in, "and watches the ships, that go sailing."

Aralenne turned her head and slightly and looked down. A young girl stood next to her, her head reaching only her hips. She, like Aralenne, was barefoot, and wore a pale blue dress that fluttered in wind. The girl had dark, reddish hair that hung to her shoulders.

And bright hazel eyes.

Aralenne turned away as her younger self looked up at her with an intense stare.

"Is this a dream?" She asked softly.

"It is… whatever you want it to be," came the little girl's reply.

"Then I want it to be real," Aralenne answered, curling her toes as the cold water washed over her feet. The wind blew her dark hair around her face. The waves rolled gently upon the shore, splashing into the white sand.

"The clouds are so dark," she whispered, eyeing the horizon wistfully.

"A storm is coming," the little girl beside her answered. "Do you think you can survive it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" There was no accusation in Aralenne's voice, only genuine curiosity. Her eyes never once left the dark horizon.

"You think you've known pain, Aralenne?"

Aralenne looked down at her bare feet. They were slowly sinking into the sand as the gentle waves washed over them.

"I…"

Thunder rolled off in the distance. The waves swelled, growing larger as they crashed into the coast.

"I don't know," she admitted, taking a step backwards away from the water. She bowed her head almost shamefully, turning around and making her way back towards land, away from the water.

"What happens next is going to ruin you Aralenne," the little girl called after her.

"Do you think you can survive it?" She whispered.

**-XII-**

I know you guys probably hate me for doing that to poor Basch, but I just had to do it. I didn't want to write the actual whipping scene though, so I had to settle for the little cliffhanger thing. Well, it's not exactly a cliffhanger because you know what happens next, but you get the idea. ;)

Some of you might recognize the song 'Beyond the Sea' in this chapter. When I was writing the names of the chapters for the whole story my brother was watching Finding Nemo in the living room, and when the credits rolled of course that song started playing, and it instantly reminded me of the Phon Coast. One of the reasons I chose the Phon Coast as Aralenne's old home is because it's one of my favorite locations in the game, and I thought it was one of the most beautiful. Right now it's tied with the Salikawood. :)


	6. IV: Aralenne's Descent

Well, it's finally here. And it's a long one too. ;)

I really, really, _really_ hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint _any_ of you. I've been telling reviewers for quite awhile that Chapter 4 is _the_ chapter to watch out for. I've been telling almost everyone that this will most likely be one of the saddest and most depressing chapters, and that it's a big turning point for Aralenne.

In most of everyone's review replies, I put a quote. This is possibly one of my most favorite Final Fantasy quotes _ever_, and that's saying a lot, considering I have many, most of them on my profile. The one in here differs slightly from the one in everyone's review replies because I was playing through FFX very recently and one line in there was different than what I had gotten from the internet.

On another note: Drace gets a bigger role in this chapter. Not _too_ big, but you get to see Lenne interact with her. It was tricky to write Drace's personality, because you _never_ see her interact with anyone besides the Judges and Vayne. I tried to make her come across as a sort of motherly figure (_sort of_, being the key words here), but also _extremely_ stern, bordering on unsympathetic. She understands how Aralenne feels about the Empire, but she doesn't really pity her or treat her different because of it.

And one more thing, I have a download suggestion for you guys for this chapter: **Calm Before the Storm-Masashi Hamauzu, Dirge of Cerberus Soundtrack**. I was listening to a lot of sad FF music while writing this (because I needed music to help get me in the mood of the chapter), and this song just reminded me of so many scenes in here. You can download it at www(dot)bluelaguna(dot)net. Just go to Final Fantasy and then Dirge of Cerberus OST. It's a pretty good song. If you do download it, the first time it'll play will be when Aralenne has her dream. You'll know it when you see it, because that'll be the only time Basch shows up in here. I would tell you the rest of the scenes where it pops up, but that would spoiling! But if I think about it, I guess it could go with most of the scenes in this chapter.

Anyways, this story has exceeded my expectations by far: Only 6 overall chapters (including this one), 42 reviews, over 1400 hits… You guys are truly the best reviewers I could ask for. This chapter is for, and dedicated, to you. Enjoy.

**-XII-**

Chapter 4 Aralenne's Descent

**-XII-**

Hope is comforting.  
It allows us to accept fate,  
however tragic it might be.  
_-Lady Yunalesca, Final Fantasy X_

**-XII-**

Aralenne stood there, unsure of what to make of the situation. The servant's words rang in her ears, clear as day.

"_It would please the Emperor greatly if you would join him in dining with his family this evening." _

"Well," Aralenne retorted moodily to the timid and apprehensive servant, "you can tell the _Emperor_, that he can shove that offer where-"

"Are you _sure_ you want to finish that sentence?" A smooth, eloquent voice cut in.

Aralenne spun around, nearly freezing on the spot at the sight of a Judge Magister in the doorway. However, the sudden appearance of the Magister wasn't what had surprised her the most.

"You're a woman?!" She gasped, her mouth gaping open like an Ichthon out of water.

"Ah, just as I thought," she answered, stepping into the room, and making her way towards Aralenne. "My name is Judge Drace. I had a suspicion you would react this way. You are not the first to have worn that expression when first learning of what lies beneath the helmet."

Aralenne immediately closed her mouth, realizing at once that the woman was insulting her. She stood her ground as the Judge stopped about five feet away from her.

"Well?" The woman asked expectantly.

"Well what?" Aralenne snapped.

'Smooth move, Lenne,' she said to herself. 'If you keep up the attitude maybe they'll finally see the folly in keeping you alive.'

"Are you going to accept the Emperor's offer to dinner?"

Aralenne sighed. "While the offer is very…" she paused to find the right word, "generous, I do not belong with them. I've been shamed enough without being reduced to dining with my captors."

"While I empathize with your situation," Aralenne nearly snorted in disgust at the woman's remark, "let me tell you give you a suggestion."

"A lecture?" She questioned sourly.

"It's advice," Drace replied calmly.

"And this _wonderful_ advice is…?"

"Take advantage of the hospitality that has been granted to you," she stated. "Very few would be so lucky to attain the privileges that have been given to you."

"Oh, so you think I'm _lucky_?" Aralenne asked irritably. "Lucky to be a prisoner of war, held captive in enemy territory and treated like a guest all the while as if it means nothing? I'd rather been thrown in the dungeon."

"No you wouldn't," Drace answered. "The dungeons are a ghastly place to be, especially for a young woman like you. To be surrounded by men who haven't seen a pretty face in decades would not be a pleasant place to be."

Aralenne had nothing to say, so she stayed silent. She didn't trust herself to speak right now, for if she were to speak what was truly on her mind, then she probably _would_ be thrown in the dungeon.

"I don't know who you are. I do not know what is in your past, or why the Emperor wants you here. But I do know this: What happened to you, who you were… It's gone now. You can't go back. This is going to be your life now. Maybe it is time you accepted that for what it was."

"You think it's that simple?" Aralenne questioned, utterly astonished at this woman's insensitivity.

"You can make it that simple. Or, you can stay in this room, engulfed in your misery.

"Your choice."

**-XII-**

Larsa waited for Judge Drace outside of Aralenne's room, tapping his foot anxiously.

"Is she coming?" Larsa asked at once, as soon as Drace shut the door.

"She's coming."

"That's wonderful!" He exclaimed, clasping his hands together and looking up at the Judge.

"You seem awfully excited," Drace commented as she made her way down the hall. "What are you up to, my little lord?"

"I am up to nothing," Larsa replied cheerfully, falling into step beside the Judge.

"Then why did you insist to your father that the girl be invited to dinner?"

"She is our guest," Larsa chirped, "we must make her feel welcome here!"

Drace bothered not to tell the young lord that the girl was no guest, but a prisoner of war. She could not bring herself to spoil the young boy's mood. As the only real mother figure he had, she could not bear to see him unhappy. He was like the son she would never have.

"…race? Drace?" Larsa's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I was asking if you could have something suitable brought up to her room for her to wear tonight. I'd like her to look presentable, you know, to impress father."

Drace smiled inside of her helmet. "Of course Lord Larsa."

**-XII-**

Aralenne plopped down on the couch with a soft 'thump'. She slouched over, putting her face in her hands, resting her elbows upon her knees.

Why on Ivalice had she agreed to go to that dinner? Alright, while her stomach had demanded that it was in great need of good food, she really did want to get out of this room. If that meant suffering through dinner with the people that destroyed her country, then she could do it. It wouldn't be that bad, would it?

"What would you say to me right now Basch?" She mumbled, reclining back against a few pillows on the couch. "Would you be angry with me right now, for not trying to come up with a plan of escape? Would you accuse me of getting too comfortable in this setup with the Empire? Would you… say that I was a traitor?"

'I would say you are tired,' a distinctly familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind. 'You _are_ tired aren't you?'

"No, I'm not tired," she whispered.

'But I _know _you are tired,' the voice insisted gently.

"If you say so," she murmured, closing her eyes. "Maybe I should get some sleep, before… tonight." She yawned, closing her eyes.

'Go to sleep,' the heavenly voice bid her.

"I am asleep," she replied softly. She felt the tips of callused fingers running along the side of her face. They glided gently over the smooth surface of her skin, down her jaw line, to her neck, and finally ending at her collarbone. Then Aralenne opened her eyes.

A familiar face greeted her. Handsome, rugged. Golden hair that was slightly tousled and pushed back.

She blinked a few times, feeling the tears behind her eyelids that threatened to well up and spill down her cheeks.

"This is a dream, isn't it?" She asked, almost mournfully, staring up into his steel blue eyes.

He smiled at her, a wonderful, dazzling smile that gave her butterflies.

"And what a beautiful dream it is," he whispered.

She began to sit up, to which he leaned down and met her halfway for a breathtaking kiss.

Aralenne was a little taken aback, but pleased all the same. She lifted a hand to grip his shirt tightly… Even if this was a dream, she wanted to hold on to it.

'But how can this be a dream?' She thought in the back of her mind. 'It feels so real…' She felt the slight pressure of Basch's thumb on her chin, and his tongue slid across her bottom lip. Aralenne let out a soft sigh before she parted her lips and the kiss became more passionate.

That was when her resolve broke. She let the tears trickle out of her closed eyelids, allowing them to fall down her cheeks and onto her neck.

"Save the tears for later, Lenne," he told her soothingly, pulling back and brushing them away with his fingers. "That's when you'll need them the most."

She frowned. Basch just offered her one of his handsome, roguish grins and stood up, taking a few steps forward, toward the horizon.

Aralenne swung her legs over the edge of the daybed, standing up to join him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his back. He shifted around so that he faced her. She kept her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder, looking out towards the sun.

"Someday the dream will end, Aralenne," Basch whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her neck.

She inhaled sharply. Blinking rapidly, tears fell onto her cheeks once more. She couldn't even breathe. What just happened? With that simple statement he had reduced her whole mind to a fearful and hysterical wreck. She couldn't even pull away to look at him and question why.

"But I'll wait for you," he continued, as if ignoring the implications of what he had just said.

"I promise."

**-XII-**

Aralenne awoke with a start, sitting up straight with enough speed to put a sprinting chocobo to shame.

"Ah, I was just about to wake you up," a familiar voice called to her. "But you've saved me the trouble."

Aralenne recognized the voice of Judge Drace at once. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down before standing up.

"Time to eat already?" She asked flatly, as a few of the servants frowned at her bluntness.

"Not quite," the woman replied, ignoring Aralenne's tone. "You must pick an outfit and get ready first."

'Damn,' Aralenne thought. 'I'm so hungry, I could eat a Behemoth steak. Or the whole Behemoth. And I _hate_ Behemoth steak. Too spicy.' Sighing, she ambled over to the bed, where the clothes were laid out.

There were three dresses to choose from. Dark green with gold accents around the neckline, sleeves, and waist. Burgundy with a silver embroidery around the skirt and torso. And lastly, seemingly simple a black and red evening gown.

Dark green was out of the question. Aralenne had never been so picky about clothes, but this dress reminded her too much of the armor that Vayne Solidor sported. Definitely _not_.

'Burgundy… Ashe once told me it did nothing for my complexion.' That was when Aralenne suddenly felt a pang of guilt for her cousin. Was she all right? Did she escape Rabanastre unharmed? Did Vossler find her?

Vossler. Just thinking of the Captain both depressed her and angered her.

'Get him out of your head, Aralenne,' she told herself. 'It would not do to put yourself in a bad mood right now. Now, that third dress…'

The black and red one was not as simple as it appeared. It was a beautiful thing to behold. It consisted of two dresses, a red, short-sleeved underdress underneath a black one. The long sleeves of the black one had slits up to the elbows, and a slit right up the front of the skirt all the way to the hips that would allow the red dress underneath to be seen. Although a simple garment, it was one of the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen.

"You have to hours to clean up and make yourself ready," Drace told her as she stared down at the dress. "Would you like the servants to help you, or-"

"I can do it myself," she said absentmindedly, not paying any attention to the female Judge.

"Very well then. You have two hours. I suggest you get a move on."

**-XII-**

To tell the truth, Aralenne only needed one hour to get ready, but she said nothing to the Judge, because the added hour gave her time to bathe. She allowed herself to admit that the bath had been nice, all the while trying to pick out several things wrong with it all the while. The whole time she kept telling herself that either the tub was too big, or the water was too hot, or that there had been too much soap… Anything to keep her mind from feeling like it was becoming too comfortable in the Empire.

Aralenne slipped the red dress over her head, sliding her arms effortlessly through the silk sleeves. The dress had a straight cut neckline, a little low, but nothing revealing. It made up for the plunging neckline of the black velvet dress, which nearly reached the end of her sternum.

The black dress was made of velvet, which nearly made Aralenne think twice about putting it on. It was a dreadfully heavy thing, and the sleeves weighed down her arms slightly. Was she supposed to eat like this?

'Maybe I should have worn the burgundy dress,' she thought, biting her lower lip. Grabbing a brush left on top of the table, she ran it through her hair, getting the knots and tangles out of her reddish-brown locks.

"You clean up better than I expected," came the voice of Judge Drace.

Aralenne didn't even turn her head. She just stared at her reflection in the mirror, a small fragment of a memory coming back to her.

_Rasler let out an appreciative whistle. "You clean up well, Lenne."_

"_Better than you," was her response._

"_I thought it was against the rules to be as beautiful as the bride…" _

Aralenne wanted to smile, and yet frown at the same time. Why were these memories coming back to her now?

'Is that all they are now?' She thought. 'Are they really just memories now?'

Judge Drace gently pulled the brush from her hand, setting it on the table. Her gloved hands dexterously pulling Aralenne's hair back into a simple, half-up do. She pulled a red ribbon seemingly out of nowhere and tied Aralenne's hair back, knotting the strip of fabric securely in place.

Drace smoothed the girl's hair down, the red ribbon Larsa had instructed her to give the girl falling delicately down to her shoulders.

"I think you're ready."

'I think you're not,' a taunting, familiar voice whispered in the back of Aralenne's mind as she was led from the room.

'Your dream is about to end Aralenne,' the voice insisted. 'It's going to ruin you!'

Aralenne set her jaw determinedly as she walked down the hallway.

'And I don't think you can survive it.'

**-XII-**

"Welcome, Lady Aralenne," the Emperor greeted politely, nodding slightly to Judge Drace, letting her know that her supervision of Aralenne was no longer required. The Judge left swiftly, leaving Aralenne alone with Imperial family. Naturally, the Emperor sat at the head of the table, while Vayne sat on his right, and the young boy she remembered from earlier right beside him.

"Please, sit down," he continued, "dinner should arrive shortly."

The young boy sitting by Vayne immediately got up out of his chair to pull hers out for her. Aralenne was a bit surprised by this gesture, but tried not to show it as she sat down on the Emperor's left side.

While they waited for the dinner to arrive, Aralenne took the opportunity to let her eyes slide inconspicuously around the room. Elegant tapestries and paintings decorated the walls, and a banner that bore the Solidor coat of arms.

'Ugh,' she thought with contempt, as the food was brought out from a side room. 'I _knew_ I should have worn the burgundy dress.'

The Solidor banner was red and black.

'Oh well,' she thought with resignation. 'I guess I might as well enjoy this dinner as well as I can. Who knows the next time they let me out will be.'

Aralenne looked at the large platter in the center. It contained a rather large cut of some animal, no doubt a rare delicacy that could feed a whole village for months. And judging from the spicy scent it emanated, Aralenne had assessed that it was in fact…

Behemoth steak. How ironic.

'Well,' she thought, as a servant began to cut the meat, 'I did say I could eat a whole Behemoth. I guess I'll have to settle for the steak. I wonder how much of this they actually eat?' She thought, glancing at what seemed to be an entire leg of the beast. 'Do they give the leftovers to the servants, or do they throw it away? If they do that's such a waste…'

She heard the wine being poured, and she looked at the glass which now contained, a dark, purplish liquid.

'What I wouldn't give for a bottle of Bhujerban Madhu,' she thought, extending her hand and taking a sip of the wine. 'I've always wanted to try drinking away my misery… I'd need a few bottles of it though… My alcohol tolerance will not allow me to get inebriated so easily…'

"How do you like your accommodations?" The Emperor's voice lifted Aralenne from her thoughts. She directed her eyes to the old man.

"Better than any a prisoner of war could ask for," she replied, taking another drink of wine. It tasted bitter and uninviting. She tried not to grimace at the aftertaste it left in her mouth.

"The servants treat you with enough respect, I trust?"

"Yes," came her one-worded reply.

"That is good."

The rest of the dinner went by quietly, at least for Aralenne. The Emperor would talk occasionally with his sons, but for the most part the only noise was the clinking of silverware on porcelain and wineglasses on the wooden table.

Aralenne ate her food slowly, trying to savor the expensive meal as best she could. About halfway through meal a servant interrupted, quietly murmuring something to the Emperor. Gramis nodded to the servant, and soon Judge Gabranth walked in, escorting a timid-looking man, wearing travel cloak over a tabard bearing a coat of arms Aralenne did not bother to take notice of.

Her gaze flickered up slightly, catching both the messenger and the Emperor's eyes directed on her. She lifted her head all the way up, setting her fork down.

"It is for you," he said, gesturing the messenger over to Aralenne. The man walked around the table, offering his delivery to her.

Aralenne took the message hesitantly, curling her fingers around the cylindrical container. It felt very heavy, she noted, almost like the message carried a significant weight about it. But who was it from?

She turned it over, brushing her finger over the stamped seal on the cap of the cylinder. It bore a distinctive coat of arms that she knew all too well.

'It's from Uncle Halim,' she thought, relief washing her over. 'How did he know where I was? Did the Empire notify him? Has he finally come up with a way to get me out here?'

Pulling out the contents of the container, she noticed a small note tied to the outside of the scroll that had been nestled within. Pulling the string off, she lifted the note into the light.

_Aralenne,_

_My dear niece. I did everything I could, but I am afraid I had no choice. _

_Forgive me._

It was unsigned.

Aralenne set the letter down, eyeing the scroll with hesitancy. Did she really want to know the words that were written across the page? Inhaling softly, she popped the wax seal on the document, unknowing of the pain that was written on the inside.

'_Sons and Daughters of Dalmasca. I bid you lay down your Arms. Raise songs of Prayer in their stead. Prayer for His Majesty, King Raminas, ever merciful. A man devoted wholly to peace.  
_

Aralenne frowned. 'What is this?' She thought, with a growing sense of dread. 'Who wrote…?'

Her breath caught in her throat. Her mind went numb.

__

'Prayer, too, for the noble Princess Ashe, who, wrought with grief at her kingdom's defeat, has taken her own life.

'No, that's not possible,' she thought desperately, willing her mind against it. 'Vossler would have gotten there in time to--he would have stopped her from-'

_'Know also that Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, for incitement of sedition and the assassination of H.R.M. King Raminas…' _

"What?" She whispered. "Sedition, and… assassination? What is this?"

She looked up at the two men around her, her expression confused and questioning.

"What is this?" She repeated weakly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Who…?"

"It is the Proclamation of Marquis Halim Ondore IV to the people of Dalmasca," Vayne answered nonchalantly, cutting up his meat without once looking at her. Aralenne looked down at the paper again.

There was more.

Her eyes widened. The air seemed to force itself from her lungs, leaving her breathless again.

'_Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, for incitement of sedition and the assassination of H.R.M. King Raminas, has been found guilty of high treason… _

'No… that's _not_… he'd _never_…'

Her heart thudded dully against her ribcage. The world seemed to slow to a complete stop.

And the last five words of that statement would be imprinted in her mind forever.

'…_and put to his death.'_

Her heart then constricted painfully in her chest. Her fingers involuntarily gripped the proclamation tighter, the vellum issuing forth a crunching sound that resonated within the silent dining room.

'I can't breathe,' she thought with a numb panic, as she willed her lungs to fill with air. Without thinking she immediately grabbed the cylinder and turned it upside down. A light clattering filled the air as two tiny metal objects tied together with a simple, black ribbon fell onto the wooden surface of the table.

'What's wrong with me?! Why can't I breathe?!'

Aralenne reached out a shaky hand, picking up the shimmering objects with as much composure as she could muster up.

It was Basch's captain's ring.

And his… his…

'_They who at this late hour choose still the sword are cut of the same cloth as the captain: traitors who would lead Dalmasca to her Ruin.'_

"He was a traitor, and a kingslayer," Vayne murmured softly, calmly taking a sip of his wine. "He dishonored Dalmasca. It had to be done."

"You," Aralenne whispered, her voice dripping with pain and anger. She clenched the rings in her fist so hard that her knuckles turned white within seconds. The metal dug painfully into her flesh, but she paid it no mind. "_You_ did this?"

"The Marquis issued the orders."

"Lies!" She spat venomously, and without warning, shoved her chair back and stood up. "All of it! There's no way my Uncle would condemn a man to death with only the enemy's word for proof! One of you framed him!"

Gabranth stood by quietly. He had been watching the situation unfold before him the entire time.

If only she knew how close to the truth she was.

"The Captain was a-"

"No! That's not true!" She cried, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Believe what you like," Vayne said flatly.

"This is madness! I don't know which one of you did it, but you framed him! _I_ got to the signing hall first! There was no way Basch could have gotten there before us, and even if he had, he would not have killed my uncle! Never! My fiancé was _not_ that kind of man!"

Gabranth froze inside his armor. He felt his blood run cold as every muscle in his body tensed up and became numb.

Fiancé…?

He shook off the initial shock and smirked resentfully inside his helmet. His brother sure hadn't wasted any time in Dalmasca, that's for sure. Rising to the rank of Captain and snatching up the King's niece within ten years.

'I didn't know you went for the younger women, brother,' he thought distastefully. 'And what a shame, to lose such a fine one as this.'

Throughout the whole time, the Emperor had said nothing. He continued on with his meal as if nothing had interrupted it in the first place. The young boy on the other hand, who even though he still held a fork in his hand, gazed up at Aralenne with wide, innocent-eyed expression that seemed torn between shame and pity.

This was wrong. This place was wrong. How could they all be this calm?

Her mind couldn't take it anymore. She bolted from the room. That stifling, overwhelming, room that made her want to choke and gasp for air.

She had no idea where she was going. The hallways were a blur as she ran. She didn't know where she ended up until she finally collapsed on the ground.

The ground.

Aralenne barely noticed, but she was outside. In the private gardens to be exact. A large fountain was in the center, with lights in the water that illuminated it into a glorious spectacle that lit up the night.

'My heart hurts so bad,' she thought with agony as she dug her fingers into the cool grass beneath her. 'Is it supposed to be like this? Is it supposed to feel like your heart's being suffocated inside you? I feel so sick… I can't breathe at all…'

_'Wait for me Aralenne…'_

She struggled for air.

_'I can't marry a dead man!'_

The tears fell down her cheeks and didn't stop.

_'Promise me you'll come back.'_

She let out a choked sob.

_'Wait for me Aralenne.'_

"Wait… don't leave me here alone," she sobbed, clenching both of the rings in her fist. Images flashed through her head. Uncle Raminas. Basch. Rasler and Ashe. Basch. Vossler. Basch. Basch smiling, Basch smirking, Basch laughing…

"Is this the end of the dream?" She whispered, collapsing gently onto the cool grass.

In a burst of whiteness, her mind had finally taken over. Instead of the Imperial gardens, she lay in a grassy field, tiny all around her. A little girl dressed in white with dark hair danced around her, singing a song, her feet sending butterflies up into the air. Aralenne, who had her eyes on the clear sky, turned over on her side, closing her eyes and falling into the comfort of sleep.

"Is it a dream?" The little girl spun around, her dress twirling around her legs.

"All the ones that I love… calling out my name…"

The little girl never stopped moving, even as heavy footsteps were approaching.

"The sun warms my face… All the days of my life, I see them passing me by…"

The little girl stopped when she saw the person make their presence known, the expression on their face one of disapproval.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, crossing his arms.

"But Basch!" The little girl whined.

"It's time to go," he repeated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You've done enough." She nodded, finally taking the hint, bounding off in the opposite direction in a blur.

Basch watched the child leave before going over to stand by Aralenne, casting a dark shadow across her sleeping figure. He looked up at the sky.

The storm had finally come.

Now it was up to Aralenne whether or not she wanted to survive it.

**-XII-**

Gabranth stood over a sleeping Aralenne, silently looking down on her through the cold metal of his helmet. His silhouette cast a demonic shadow over her, nearly covering her in darkness. Her face was pale, and he was not surprised to find to find tear stains on her face.

As much as his mind tried to will against it, a small wave of pity washed over him for the pathetic girl that lay at his feet.

A tranquil breeze swept his cloak around him, lifting him from his thoughts.

He should move her. Darkness had long since fallen, and it wouldn't be long before guards patrolled past this area. Resigning himself to his task, Gabranth bent down, sliding one arm behind her back and hooking the other under her knees, effortlessly lifting her up from the ground.

He shifted her head into the crook of his arm, one of the few places that wasn't covered in armor.

Larsa stood in entranceway, his blue eyes unhappy in their gaze. Clearly the ten year old blamed himself for tonight's events, though how he could have come to that conclusion, Gabranth didn't know. He walked past the boy without looking at him, heading for the stairs to take the girl to her room.

There were guards waiting for him when he arrived; he dismissed them without a second thought. There would be no need for guards tonight, he knew that much. If his assumptions were correct, this girl would not want to leave her room any time soon.

He laid her on the bed, setting her down carefully so as not to wake her. Just to make sure she would not wake anytime soon, he cast a Sleep spell on her, leveling the power of it so that it would not keep her senses drugged by the time she awoke.

Gabranth paused, observing her face in the candlelight. Even though her eyes were closed, he saw glittering rivulets trickle out of her eyes.

'How much did she really care for him?' He wondered, pondering the thought as he stepped out of the room. 'Am I beginning to feel guilt for what I've done?' Gabranth shook his head to assure himself. 'No,' he told himself. 'It's his own fault that she's suffering. He deserved the fate that the gods bestowed upon him.'

He locked the door.

'I have no regrets.'

**-XII-**

Aralenne opened her eyes. It was dark. The ground underneath her was soft and warm. Weakly lifting her head, she realized that she was no longer in the gardens, but in her room, on the bed.

'What happened?' She wondered. 'How did I end up back in here?'

Then it hit her.

Dinner.

Her Uncle's proclamation.

Her cousin was dead.

Basch was…

She closed her eyes, feeling tears well up behind her eyelids. She inhaled deeply as best she could, trying to calm herself.

'The rings,' she thought, looking around wildly as a sudden terror gripping her. 'Where'd they go?'

A soft shimmer on the nightstand caught her attention. Her hand shot out towards the glint, her fingers grasping the black ribbon that held the two rings together. She pulled on one end of the ribbon, watching as it pulled itself apart, dropping the two rings in her lap.

She instantly recognized the gold signet ring, the emblem of Dalmasca stamped into the flattened oval. The letter 'B' stood out from the rest, etched into the metal with silver. She knew for a fact that the date of his captainship was etched on the inside, but did not bother to check it as she slid the band onto the middle finger of her right hand.

She already knew the date anyway.

She looked down at the other ring, glistening against the black fabric of the evening dress she still wore.

Aralenne remembered the night she had accepted the proposal. They had gone to her uncle soon after, who had been absolutely overjoyed and had nearly decided to wake up the whole palace to celebrate until Aralenne convinced him otherwise. But she had been astounded to learn that Raminas had already had the engagement bands made. 'An old man's intuition', he had said with a smile.

When they left her Uncle's study and stepped out into the hallway Basch had immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head with what Aralenne was sure had to be embarrassment and muttering something about 'proposing the right way'.

And she said yes.

Both bands had been made out of moonsilver, the traditional metal for wedding bands. Aralenne's had a ring of tiny diamonds set into the metal, winding all the way around the band. Basch's was much simpler in appearance. To most it appeared to be just a plain moonsilver band. But the inside of the band was just like the outside of Aralenne's; a ring of tiny diamonds set into the metal, completely unseen to the hume eye unless he took the ring off.

While Basch had been fighting in Nalbina, Aralenne had taken the opportunity to ask her Uncle the significance of having diamonds on the inside of the band if no one were to ever see them. He responded by saying 'opposites attract'.

Aralenne replied by asking if he could possibly make that answer any more vague.

Either way, it was a beautiful ring to behold. But it wasn't supposed to be here, with her. It wasn't supposed to be resting on her middle finger, next to her own wedding band.

Basch would never have given these rings up voluntarily. Maybe he really was…

She felt a familiar lump rise in her throat, bringing with it a fresh wave of tears.

"Why?" She whispered, looking down at the ring that she held between her trembling fingers. It glowed softly in the dull, flickering candlelight.

"Why?!"

"Why him?!" She cried out to the empty room.

"Why me?"

Aralenne collapsed against the bed, hoping to the gods that she would fall into unconsciousness. But she didn't.

The waves of pain began to advance.

**-XII-**

"And how fares the girl?" The Emperor asked, standing in front of a large window, his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking down upon the city with an unreadable expression.

"The situation is still same, My Lord," Gabranth answered, "she will not come out of her room."

"Has anyone tried talking to her?"

"The only one who has tried is Judge Drace, Your Majesty. The girl will not listen to reason. She's fallen into such a melancholy that everyone is at a loss. Why do you continue to keep her here?"

The Emperor was silent for a moment before answering.

"Larsa has been asking about her."

"He has?" In truth, Gabranth was not surprised. He knew of the boy's interest in the prisoner, but he did not plan to let the Emperor catch on to that.

"I am concerned his studies will suffer for it, not to mention his mindset."

"His… mindset, my lord?" Gabranth inquired tentatively.

"I am sure you are already aware of the young woman's resemblance to Larsa's mother… I do not want his state of mind becoming compromised while this girl is around. I want the locks on the servant's entrances changed, and at least one guard by the main door at all times."

"Yes my Lord."

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat on the cushioned ledge by the window. A small breeze blew in, ruffling the curtains, brushing them across her face. The moonlight streamed in, illuminating her features in a pale glow. She sat by this window every day, watching the world go by without her.

How long had she been in this room? How long had she been drowning?

Days? Weeks?

Months…?

'How could this happen?' She thought miserably. 'How did Dalmasca deserve it?'

Yes, it had been months hadn't it? It had been months that she stayed in this room, miserable and depressed, not once trying to resurface from the pain and agony she had been drowning herself in.

"I'll wait for you Basch," she whispered through her oncoming tears, sliding his ring back onto her middle finger so that it rested next to her own band once more. "I'll wait until the day I die if I have to."

But I _will_ wait for you.

"No matter what."

Forever.

"I promise."

Even though I don't think it'll be long enough.

Aralenne stood up, closing the window and drawing the dark curtains before making her way over to the bed once more, settling down into the thick blankets.

Yes.

Aralenne was drowning, and she didn't even want to think about saving herself. The waves of heartache had long since risen above her, pulling her down into an abyss far deeper than one could imagine.

And it would be a long time before she resurfaced.

**-XII-**

_May it be  
An evening star,  
Shines down  
Upon you…_

_May it be  
When darkness falls,  
Your heart  
Will be true…_

_You walk a lonely road,  
Oh how far you are from home…_

_Mornié Utúlié  
Believe and you  
Will find your way…  
Mornié Alantié  
A promise lives  
Within you now…_

_May it be  
The shadow's call,  
Will fly away…_

_May it be  
Your journey on,  
To light the day…_

_When the night is overcome,  
You may rise to find the sun…_

_Mornié Utúlié  
Believe and you  
Will find your way…  
Mornié Alantié  
A promise lives  
Within you now…_

_A promise lives within you…  
Now…_

**-XII-**

Lord of the Rings buffs should recognize the lyrics in this chapter. I had other ideas for songs, but none of them really felt right in the end, and Evanescence's 'My Immortal' just felt too cliché to me. Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful song and I love it, but go to youtube and type in 'My Immortal' and 'Final Fantasy' and see how many videos you get. I won't be a hypocrite though, I have one up on youtube also, but it was an idea that I just had to go on. And I'm not usually one to ignore my muses.

The little factoid on wedding bands being traditionally being made out of moonsilver is true. I'm pretty sure the way I found out was through the Lovestruck Man (otherwise known as Otto) in Old Archades when I was doing the Nabreus's Medal side quest when you have to find the Moonsilver Medallion. I'm pretty sure I learned it from that guy because I searched my Bestiary 100 times over and couldn't find that little fact. But it really is true!

And one more thing: I purposely didn't put much Basch in here because I wanted everyone reading the chapter to feel cut off from him, like the way Aralenne feels cut off from him. Originally there was going to be absolutely _zero_ Basch, but I felt like I owed Aralenne that dream before I shot her life to hell. I don't know how much Basch there will be in the next chapter, because it's mostly an Aralenne-centric one, but I'll see what I can do. Until next time!


	7. V: Above the Water

Sorry for the delay guys, this chapter was hell to write. Have any of you ever had it where you're getting ready to write a chapter, and you know _exactly _what it's going to be about, but you have absolutely _no_ idea how to write it or word it, or what scene to put first? That's what happened to me. This chapter was an absolute mess for _quite_ awhile. And to top it off it was nearing the end of senior year… But down to business…

I was utterly amazed at the response the last chapter got. 17 reviews! All of them literally made my day. I would read them all the time to keep my inspiration up, and to remind myself of all the people that would be waiting for this chapter to be up! But seriously, pretty much everyone's review is what a lot of writers would _kill _to hear. It was great to know most of you were happy with Gabranth's character, that was nice to hear. He's a difficult one lol. And a couple of you downloaded 'Calm Before the Storm' too! That made me pretty happy too…

One of my reviewers, Dreamhare, brought up a good point in her review. Even though Aralenne is the 'leading lady' here, I haven't written too much on Ashe. To be honest, I agree with her. And when I started thinking about Ashe, I started thinking about Vossler too. Now, I'm not going to be cutting the story to these two very often, (sorry to disappoint you Dreamhare!) but I will try and put them in here from time to time, just to keep the story fresh and everything, give you different points of view and all that. And there IS a little bit of them in here, so enjoy!

I have a download for you, so enjoy!

**Sky-Blue Eyes**-(Crisis Core OST): www(dot)bluelaguna(dot)net _(starts during Aralenne's __**flashback in italics**__, after the line 'Aralenne put her head down.' So be on the lookout for that line during the flashback)_

**-XII-**

Chapter 5 Above the Water

**-XII-**

_I'm going under  
Drowning in you  
I'm falling forever  
I've got to break through  
I'm  
Going under_

**-XII-**

'_I can't breathe,' she thought numbly amidst the surrounding darkness. _

'_Why can't I breathe?'_

_This was unlike any place she knew of. She was suspended in shadows, her hair swirling around her, floating in front of her face. The inky blackness showed no signs of fading; in fact, it only seemed to increase, closing in on her, stifling her._

'_Where am I?'_

_Beginning to suffocate, Aralenne inhaled as deeply as she could…_

_Only to choke as water filled her lungs._

_Aralenne coughed and looked around in wild panic. She was underwater. And it was so dark that she couldn't tell left from right, or up from down. It was impossible in this… this abyss._

_She exhaled the last bit of air from lungs, small bubbles escaping her lips as the last of her oxygen floated upward._

_Upward…_

_With a sudden jolt of realization she immediately began pulling her way toward the surface, legs kicking furiously._

_When her head finally broke the surface of the water, her lungs immediately gasped for air painfully. She looked around wildly, trying to find a way to get out of the water. A sliver of moonlight escaped through the dark clouds that covered it, and Aralenne looked towards that direction._

_The water's edge. And it wasn't that far away._

_And someone was there._

_Aralenne's heart gave a lurch before she was pulled back under as the water suddenly grew turbulent._

"_Please," she begged, her voice sounding warped and distorted as a stream of bubbles issuing from her mouth. "Help me."_

_The individual did nothing. They only stood there, unmoving, as she struggled to get above the water once more._

"_Why won't you help me?!" She screamed, extending a pale hand upward, a ghostly image in the dark water._

_The person frowned slightly before turning away from her, walking away into the growing mist. _

"_Vossler!" _

**-XII-**

_A hundred days have made me older  
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face  
A thousand lies have made me colder  
And I don't think I could look at this the same  
And all the miles that separate  
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face_

**-XII-**

A bright, full moon shone in through the gaping hole in the oubliette at Nalbina. It illuminated every brick, shone through every crack, casting hideous shadows on the walls.

Basch fon Ronsenburg was so far deep in the ground that the light never reached him.

The cage that he was entombed in had been dropped so far deep into the earth that darkness was his only and constant companion.

After the whipping, he had been dragged back to his cage, cuffed, chained, and locked back inside, where he had been ever since. His back had hurt for days on end. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, the unattended wounds began to infect, and ultimately scar over. He didn't care; not as long as they never pained him again.

Time had no meaning down here. Basch had long since lost count of the days he had been in this prison. All he knew was that his hair and beard had grown to such a length that Aralenne would have thrown a fit if she could see him right now.

Aralenne.

She was never far from his thoughts. No wait… that was wrong.

She was _always_ in his thoughts.

No matter where his mind wandered, it always came back to her. Even when he closed his eyes, he couldn't escape her. She was always there, just out of reach, dancing and laughing in the darkness.

It was torture.

But it kept him alive.

**-XII-**

_I'm here without you baby  
But you're still on my lonely mind  
I think about you baby  
And I dream about you all the time  
I'm here without you baby  
But you're still with me in my dreams  
And tonight  
It's only you and me_

**-XII-**

_How many months had she stayed in this room, feeling sorry for herself?_

In the darkness of the room, Aralenne lay on the bed, her fingers holding a certain ring above her eyes.

_How many days had she stared at that engagement band, the moonsilver shimmering in the dull candlelight?_

_How long had she been treading water?_

She turned the ring over, the diamonds on the inside of the band glittering in the light. It seemed like all she ever did in here was sleep and stare at that ring. A servant would come in every once in awhile to deliver her food tray or restock the bookshelf while she slept.

Aralenne did a lot of reading. History, geography, literature… every book that came through that door she had read at least twice. It was one of the many meaningless things she did in order to fill up her day.

Aralenne slipped the ring back onto her hand. With a soft sigh, she turned her head towards the window. Despite the thick, dark curtains she could see shimmers of light beyond the other side.

A new day had come.

And still the waves had yet to cease.

**-XII-**

The sun was rising upon the horizon, illuminating the sky in a myriad of colors. A perfect picture of serenity.

Vossler York Azelas closed his eyes, inhaling the morning air deeply. Enjoying the sunrise seemed to be one of the few small pleasures he had nowadays. Ever since that night in the fortress, filled with blood and death, he had little to enjoy anymore.

Making haste across the Estersand and back to Rabanastre, he had evacuated his princess and what little soldiers he could find to assemble a guard. They fled into the rising dawn, leaving the people of the city to suffer at the mercy of the Empire as their airship fleet came upon the horizon.

Leaving Aralenne behind had been agonizing. It was a miracle that he had been able to continue walking away from her after she called his name, and even bigger feat that he never once looked back. If he did his resolve would have crumbled. But he wished with every fiber of his being that it did. Just once. Because the consequences were unbearable.

He deserted a member of the royal family. A woman he swore an oath to protect.

And then that dream… Vossler hung his head.

He just walked away into the mist. He chose not to save her. He left her to die, to drown in the dark water.

He was as much a traitor as the man he had once called a friend.

It was the worst kind of betrayal. He told King Raminas as soon as he swore that oath years ago that he would have done anything and everything in his power in order to keep his niece safe.

And now, those words were as good as a lie.

"Vossler?" Came a small, tentative voice.

He opened his eyes.

"You should be resting," he said softly, lifting his head and turning it slightly towards her.

"So should you," she replied, wrapping her arms around her midriff as a cool morning breeze blew in. "How can you protect me if you are half-asleep?"

"I am fine," he insisted firmly, crossing his arms, once more taking on the roll of a guarded and closed-off soldier.

"What's troubling you?" She asked him quietly. "Tell me."

"It is nothing, Majesty," he answered, turning his head away before she could see the shame creeping onto his features. He did not want to burden her with his own guilt, especially when that guilt involved abandoning her remaining family member in a doomed fortress.

He could never tell her.

She would _never_ forgive him.

"You were having a nightmare last night, were you not?" She pressed on gently.

"I do not have nightmares," he replied bitterly, keeping his eyes trained on everything else but her.

Silence fell between them like rain. Ashe bit her bottom lip, a little hesitant to take this subject further.

"I could hear you."

**-XII-**

_Wake me up inside  
Wake me up inside  
Call my name and save me from the dark  
Bid my blood to run  
Before I come undone  
Save me from the nothing I've become_

**-XII-**

Aralenne stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest leisurely. The sun had set a few hours before, and the city of Archades had quieted down for the evening. The first stars were beginning to fade into the night sky, twinkling dimly.

"_Six months…"_

Aralenne sighed, pulling the curtain closed yet leaving the window open for the soft breeze to blow in.

"_Don't you think it is time you got past all this?"_

She poured herself a glass of water from the decanter that had been left in the room. She sipped it with ease, not paying attention to where her pacing feet wandered.

When Aralenne looked up she was in front of a mirror. She paused, her hazel eyes scanning over her reflection intently, as if looking for a defect. She eyed the reflection of the glass in her hand, still poised below her lips. Pulling it away, she eyed it in her hand, then in the mirror.

She threw her arm forward, the water flying out of the glass, splashing softly against the solid surface.

Aralenne watched as it cascaded gently down the mirror. The liquid slid down the silver surface, distorting her image until she was nothing but indiscernible splashes of color.

"_Do you think I want to see my niece waste away like this?"_

She closed her eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath and dropping the glass.

'_Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, for incitement of sedition and the assassination of H.R.M. King Raminas, has been found guilty of high treason and put to his death.'_

It shattered.

**-XII-**

_The world we knew  
Won't come back  
The time we've lost  
Can't get back  
The life we had  
Won't be ours again_

_This world will never be  
What I expected  
And if I don't belong…_

_Even if I say  
It'll be alright  
Still I hear you say  
You want to end your life  
Now and again we try  
To just stay alive  
Maybe we'll turn it around  
'Cause it's not too late  
It's never too late_

**-XII-**

_Aralenne stood in the middle of the room. Her uncle stood by the window, his hands linked loosely behind his back. She had an idea of why she had been called here, but all she could do was stare at the carpet until she was spoken to._

"_Six months."_

_Aralenne lifted her head._

"_You've been here for six months Aralenne," her uncle continued. "And yet, you haven't spoken a word. Why is that?"_

_Aralenne tensed. Her eyes narrowed. She knew it. Curse her uncle! Having her pulled all the way here just for this! She spun on her heel, determined to get out of there and go sulk in her favorite corner of the gardens._

_Vossler stepped in front of the door, barring her exit. Her eyes widened in anger, and she turned around, instantly making for the other door situated on the right side of the room. Basch stepped in front of the door, his eyes directed ahead, not looking at her._

'_Traitor,' she thought with outrage, throwing him an accusing glare which, even for a nine-year old, would have had most people cringing, mostly for the fact that she was always such a sweet-tempered child._

_Basch was the one who came to retrieve her from where she had been originally; in the gardens. He was also the one of the few who never tried to goad her into saying anything. During the many instances when Aralenne had run into him, he would persuade her into going on a walk with him. She usually complied, but grudgingly, as she didn't want to see his handsome smile turn into a frown. She never talked of course, no, he did that enough for both of them, leaving Aralenne to always wonder how he could possibly shoot the breeze for so long without stopping._

"_Do not try and run away from me Aralenne," her uncle's voice commanded with authority. "I am trying to help you."_

'_Well I do not recall asking for it,' she thought nastily, scowling and crossing her arms defensively._

"_Don't act the insubordinate child with me Aralenne," her uncle ordered. "I have had enough of it."_

'_Then get rid of me why don't you?' She looked at the carpet fiercely, as if it were the source of all her woes. 'Send me away to __**daddy's**__ relatives, who hate me and don't even want me.'_

"_You're selfish Aralenne. You're selfish. What would your parents say if they could see their only child right now, acting like this?"_

_Raminas turned around, facing his niece with an unreadable expression. _

"_They would be ashamed of you."_

_Her eyes widened. She took a tiny step backward, her arms uncrossing to hang limply at her hips. Her mouth fell open slightly. _

'_No… mommy and daddy wouldn't be ashamed… I remember them every day, I haven't forgotten! How could they be ashamed of me?!'_

"_Do you think I want to see my niece waste away like this? Because that's what you're doing Aralenne. Only nine-years old, yet you are content to waste away before your time. It's pitying, Aralenne."_

_Aralenne put her head down. Her uncle had never talked to her like this before. He must have been really angry with her. Suddenly she felt worse than she ever did. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, and tears welled up in her eyes. She closed her eyes to prevent them from escaping, her head falling against her chest._

"_And believe me when I say that I do understand what you're feeling. I know what grief can do to a person, and, many years ago, when my wife died… oh Aralenne, you could not imagine the sorrow I felt. But I went forward with my life… Do you know why?"_

_She shook her head, her eyes still closed. Tears trickled out of her eyelids regardless. Raminas nearly smiled. At last, the wall she had set up was crumbling, vulnerability and weakness flooding out._

"_Because I had a daughter and a family who depended on me. I had a kingdom who needed me to be strong. Right now you have a family, however small, who needs you to be strong. There are people here, not just your cousin and I, who care about you, and who want you to get past all of this."_

_More tears slipped out as she blinked rapidly. Raminas knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders._

"_And it is useless to try and figure out why these things happen. They just do. But when people are sad for so long, they aren't people anymore. They are just an empty shell, hollow and lifeless. Sometimes they just seem to… disappear."_

_Disappear… Just like her parents did. It was in that one instant on the Phon Coast that her parents just… disappeared._

"_I know where they go," she sobbed, finally speaking for the first time in months._

"_I know you do," Raminas told her, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping her eyes._

_The two soldiers in the room turned their heads away from the scene. Vossler's eyes were downcast; Basch had directed his gaze towards the window. Words could not describe the discomfort they felt while in this room. This should have been a private moment between uncle and niece, but Raminas insisted they be there should she try to bolt, just like she had done during the previous times he had tried to talk to her._

"_And I don't want that for you," Raminas continued. "Your cousin Ashelia and I, we love you. We want help you, in __**any**__ way we can. Even though your parents can never be replaced, together, your cousin and I can love you enough for the both them, and more."_

_Aralenne cried harder, lifting her hands up to cover her face, at last coming to the realization that she did indeed have a family. And that they had been there all along, only she had been too blind and caught up in her own grief to see it. _

"…_So don't be like this anymore Aralenne. You have grieved long enough, and you have been sad for even longer. Don't let this sorrow poison you anymore." He pulled her hands away from her face, determined not to let her hide._

"_Start enjoying your life, Aralenne. Live it to its fullest, and die many, many years after I do. And if it is at all possible, die with a smile on your face. If you don't, I shudder to think of what awaits me when I see Deryssa again. Knowing your mother, she would have a fit."_

_Aralenne looked into her uncle's warm and understanding eyes, silently thanking him for taking her in as his own, and for making her at last see the light in the dark path she had been traveling down. _

"_I will," she whispered._

'_I will,' she repeated in her head. 'Thank you so much Uncle. Even though I am selfish and do not deserve this chance, I want to start living again. I want to be someone that you and mom and dad can proud of! That cousin Ashe can proud of!'_

_Aralenne sniffed and wiped away her tears, lifting her head in determination. _

"_Someday I'll make you proud of me Uncle!" She declared, the sobs in her voice now replaced with resolve. "I'll live my life to its fullest, and I'll smile, and one day I'll be someone you can be proud to call your daughter! I swear it!"_

_Basch and Vossler looked upon the scene and couldn't help but smile faintly._

**-XII-**

'_I swear it!' _

The words echoed in Aralenne's head as her eyes opened that morning. She lay on the bed where she had fallen asleep after her little 'incident' with the mirror.

She didn't know why she had reacted the way she did. Her only guess was that her mind didn't like the cold and distant person that the mirror reflected. The same cold and distant person she had become ever since that night when life, it seemed, had changed forever.

"I'm sorry Uncle," she said to the empty room, sitting up in bed. "I broke my promise. Amidst all my grief, somehow I forgot. And now, I've disappointed you… again.

"This is going to be hard for me, especially since I am in the Empire, but… I want to start living again. The promise I made you that day… although I broke it, I'm going to pick it up and put it back together.

"It's time to end this," Aralenne told herself, determination evident in her tone. She looked down at her hand, the diamonds of her engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight that shone through the curtains. A more metallic shimmer came from the moonsilver band that rested on her middle finger right next to it. Aralenne clenched her fingers, her nails digging into her palm.

"No more hiding."

**-XII-**

_Maybe we'll turn it around  
'Cause it's not too late  
It's never too late (It's never too late)_

_It's not too late…  
It's never too late…_

**-XII-**

The continent of Dorstonis floated peacefully in the clouds. The citizens went about their daily lives, untouched by the continuing war between Rozarria and Archadia, ever thankful for their peaceful existence.

But, in the city of Bhujerba…

"_What do you mean they refused?!"_ The angry voice of Marquis Halim Ondore IV resonated throughout the estate.

The messenger flinched as he stood in front of the desk of the furious and livid Marquis.

"As I said, they refused to lend us their aid, sir. Try as I might-"

"Did you explain the circumstances?" Halim pressed on.

"I did sir."

"And?"

The messenger sighed. "And they said that an illegitimate child was no concern of theirs."

"Illegitimate?" Halim echoed. "After all these years, they still have not accepted their son's choices? How pitying. I thought them better than to live in the past."

"It's not just that sir. From what I overheard, it seems that years ago they made Marius some kind of an offer, yet he rebuffed it. I think that that offer, whatever it was, may have been his last chance to get back into his family's good graces. The rejection, it seems, has stayed with them ever since."

Halim rubbed the bridge of his nose. How complicated. "You may go," he said, waving a hand and dismissing the messenger from the room. He gave a weary sigh and stood up.

"I am so sorry, Aralenne," Halim murmured as he gazed out on Bhujerba from the terrace of the drawing room. "Your Rozarrian relatives are still bitter; more than I had realized. Even now they have not forgotten your father's defiance from all those years ago. They refuse to help me help you, so it seems I am in need of a new plan."

It was only later that day that plans for the Resistance were formed.

**-XII-**

_I will remember you  
Will you remember me?  
Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories_

_I'm so tired but I can't sleep  
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep  
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word  
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard_

_But I will remember you  
Will you remember me?  
Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories_

_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose  
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose  
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night  
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light_

_And I will remember you  
Will you remember me?  
Don't let your life pass you by  
Weep not for the memories…_

**-XII-**

If I get any complaints about how short this chapter may seem, let me fill you in. This chapter was originally longer. A LOT longer. It was either cut out all the stuff I hadn't finished writing or make you guys wait longer than you already have. Looking at my chapter outlines _right_ now, I think this may actually work out better. This chapter isn't a filler. It may seems short, but it has served its purpose… Please guys, just don't think I made you wait this long for a short chapter. As I said, it was longer, but not being able to update was killing me… Oh, and I apologize for any spelling grammatical errors at the moment. I'll go back and re-edit later.

Writing Aralenne's emotional transition in this chapter was a feat in itself. But I would rather have taken a long time to write this and give you guys the well-written chapter you deserve instead of something quick-written and half-assed. I'm sorry for the delay, but I hoped you enjoyed it! Your support is very much appreciated!


	8. VI: Larsa

Guess what? Look up at the day this story was published. Now look at the day it's been updated. :-) I raced to get this chapter done in time for that. This story's come such a long way. Needless to say I'll be updating more when this merges with FFXII storyline…

* * *

**EDIT: **HOLY SH!T! I just cut it reaaaaally close guys, _really_ close. Like, I finished writing the chapter at 11:58 and posted it 11:59 kinda close. Whew! I wanted to make this cutoff date so bad, and I did! I'm so happy!! (clears throat) Anyways, without further delay…

Oh, and I apologize ahead of time for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I'll go back and edit later. Right now I'm still hyped up on the fact that I was able to get this up in time!

* * *

WOO HOO! As of now, _In Love and War _has 3470 hits! As usual, thank you to my LOVELY reviewers! You guys are truly awesome, and I humbly thank you for sticking with this story and me through my writer's block/slump and for waiting (however impatiently) for that last chapter, however short it maybe have been. I was so afraid I might have lost some reviewers after not updating for so long, but I'm still feeling the love!

The bulk of this chapter was supposed to be in Chapter 5... But I think it actually works better this way. But I think you guys will like this one! As far as Larsa's been concerned, I've been dropping teasers like mad, but not anymore! Our lovely little prince finally gets the debut he deserves, hence the name of the chapter! Larsa's a special kid, I love him! I wish I had a little brother like him. Sadly, I have to deal with the one I've got…

If any of you downloaded the song 'Calm Before the Storm' from a few chapters ago you might want to get it out for the first scene of this chapter. No real cue on when to start it, but obviously the song ends when the scene ends lol. It just sets the mood for the scene really. Oh and, Aralenne plays the piano in here guys, and you all _**know**_ that I love music, so…

**Their Resting Place (You'll be looking for **_**'Demise'**_**!) **(FFX-2 Piano Collections): www(dot)ffrepublic(dot)com _(attempted by Larsa and played by Aralenne)_

**Eternity -Memory of Lightwaves-: **(FF X-2 OST) www(dot)bluelaguna(dot)net _(the 2__nd__ piece played by Aralenne)_

**-XII-**

Chapter 6 Larsa

**-XII-**

_Who can say where the road goes,  
Where the day flows?  
Only time... _

_And who can say if your love grows,  
As your heart chose?  
Only time..._

**-XII-**

_The Phon Coast_

_10 Years Ago_

"Mommy!"

Deryssa lifted her head, pushing her light blonde hair out of her face. Her daughter flew towards her, a blur dressed in pale blue.

"I found this on the floor!" Aralenne waved something around in her face, causing the woman to lean back for fear of being swiped in the face with whatever object her daughter held.

"Hold still!" She laughed, grabbing Aralenne's wrist and gently plucking the thing from her hand.

"All right you," she ruffled her daughter's hair, gently pushing her toward the door, "now run along outside. Go find me some more pretty shells like you did a few days ago."

"Alrighty!"

And so she was gone as quickly as she came. Deryssa smiled in amusement, shaking her head at her child's antics. Then she looked at what she had been given.

It was a letter, written on a thick, rich, heavy parchment.

To Deryssa, it looked just like any ordinary letter they might have received from family or friends.

That is, until she flipped it over and saw the seal that once bound it.

_Outside…_

The waves rolled gently upon the Phon Coast. Marius watched the sea with a calm serenity, inhaling the scent of the ocean in deeply as a warm breeze caressed his face.

And then…

"Is there something you would like to explain to me, Marius?"

The Rozarrian man turned upon his wife's arrival. He immediately became wary when he noticed the accusing stare in her eyes.

Deryssa held up a folded letter. The dark purple wax seal was the only thing that gave away its importance.

A seal bearing a familiar Rozarrian coat of arms he knew all too well.

Comprehension dawned on his face. Then guilt. His wife's expression, however never wavered.

"When did the messenger arrive?" She asked him, cutting through the silence between them.

Marius turned from her. "A few days ago."

"Don't you _dare_ turn your back on me now," she warned. Slowly, Marius turned back around, looking his wife in the eyes.

"Why did you hide it?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," he confessed.

"The right thing to do?" She repeated. "Hiding something that concerns our _daughter_ was the 'right thing to do?'"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, her eyes watering in anger.

"Were you even going to _tell_ me that your family wanted to see Aralenne?" She asked, her voice soft, but disappointed all the same.

"I wanted to," Marius answered, running a hand through his dark hair. He sighed. "I hoped that I wouldn't have to."

"Why?"

Marius shook his head, indicating that he did not want to say anymore on the subject.

"What are we going to do?" Deryssa asked him. "We cannot go to Rozarria now, we just promised my brother-"

"We do _nothing_," Marius answered with an even tone. "Burn the request, and speak nothing else of it. I will _not_ go back to Rozarria again."

"Just ignore it?" She asked heatedly. "How can you say that? What if they send someone to find us? What _if_ they find us?"

"They will not," Marius said determinedly. "When they do not hear from me, they will understand. They will accept my decision. They will pursue us no longer."

"I hope you are right," she answered. The pale-haired woman held the letter out to him, gesturing for him to take it.

"If that is what you truly wish," she said indifferently. "Do away with it as you see fit. I care not."

"Deryssa…" He whispered pleadingly, his fingers clenching around the letter. Anger welled up inside of him, not at his wife, but at himself. Trust had never been an issue in their relationship, even after they married. They trusted each other completely and without hesitation. Marius had always prided himself on the fact that he never had to lie or purposely withhold anything from his wife, as other men did.

"If you feel guilty about this," she told him quietly, "then you never should have done it in the first place."

"I know, and I apologize to you from the depths of my heart. Deryssa, I swear to you, this will _not_ happen again. Forgive me?"

"Of course," she told him, reaching a hand up and brushing strands off dark hair off his brow. "However… this business with your family… all of the secrets… it's disquieting. And it makes me wonder: what would they possibly want with our daughter?"

"Most likely just to meet her. It would be their excuse for getting me to come back to Rozarria. That's why I adore your family; they are nothing like those which I despise."

"You _need_ to make peace with them," she insisted.

"Making 'peace' with them," he replied bitterly, "would require me to renounce you, and claim our daughter a bastard. That will _never_ happen."

"You don't know what is they want," Deryssa countered gently. "If they even want anything at all. Perhaps they only want to makes amends."

"I can only wish it were that simple," he lamented, turning back towards the coast, the waves gently rolling upon his feet.

Deryssa slid her arms around his waist, placing her chin up on his shoulder. "Nothing is simple for us anymore," she whispered.

Nine-year old Aralenne peered out from around a small rock formation to watch her parents share a tender moment upon the shore of the Phon Coast. She smiled in triumph before turning around and darting off to the Hunter's Camp.

The sunsets on the coast were always beautiful. It seemed like the only thing between you and the sun was an endless expanse of water. And when the stars came out, it was almost like a second sky was reflected in the sea, a breathtaking sight. They always made a point of watching the sunsets together as a family.

But tonight, Marius and Deryssa watched it alone.

It would be their last.

**-XII-**

_Who can say why your heart sighs,  
As your love flies?  
Only time... _

_And who can say why your heart cries,  
When your love lies?  
Only time..._

**-XII-**

_10 years later…_

Aralenne slid open the door of the wardrobe, pulling out the first dress she saw. It was long-sleeved dark blue dress, with shimmery, dark red embroidery around the neckline and hem of the skirt. She stripped out of the flimsy robe and shift she wore, yanking the dress on over her head and shoving her arms through the sleeves.

"Are there any shoes around here?" She wondered absentmindedly, rummaging through the closet.

After the shoe problem was taken care of, she stepped right in front of the mirror, running a comb through her long hair--and it certainly had grown quite a bit since her arrival in the Empire. It nearly reached her waist now. Her dark hair was perhaps the only thing you could distinguish her Rozarrian heritage by. Tanned skin was another feature, but nearly everyone in Dalmasca carried a slight golden hue to their skin. How Ashe had managed to keep a fair visage had been beyond her. But she never spent as much time outside as Aralenne had.

Living in the Dalmascan sun for ten years had managed to sun bleach her dark brown hair into a burnished bronze with a few dark auburn highlights. She kept it trimmed a few inches past her shoulders due to the hot weather and to keep it easy to style and manage. But she had immediately stopped caring about outward appearance when she came to the realization that there would be no more Dalmascan weather to enjoy, nor a fiancé to please.

Days after the night she had read the Marquis' proclamation, she contemplated cutting it all off, just to be rid of the memories. Memories of her mother brushing it for her when she was a child, memories of her father telling her much they looked alike, memories of her uncle laughing at her and telling her she looked more Rozarrian than Dalmascan, memories of Ashe trying to pull it out as she twisted it into ridiculous and complicated braids… and memories of Basch, as he ran his callused fingers through it, saying how he had never felt anything so soft… and how he'd _never_ kiss her again if she cut it.

She had already held the scissors in one hand when that piece of memory had surfaced in her mind. Eyes already full of tears long before that moment, she tossed the scissors aside, resigning herself to leave her hair as it was and go cry herself to sleep so she wouldn't have to think about the memories anymore.

Picking up a red ribbon off the vanity, she quickly pulled her hair back into a leisurely half-up do while making her way towards the door, not bothering with any pins or clips.

The door. Aralenne sighed with dread. Guards were probably on the other side of it. She always used to hear them talking and conversing back and forth. Lately though, they had been very quiet. She never even heard the chinking or rustling of armor. Did they finally conclude that since she never tried to leave, she needed no guard?

'Only one way to find out,' she thought half-heartedly.

She looked down at her left hand. It seemed that the two moonsilver bands twinkling up at her was all the reassurance she needed.

"Faram be with me," she muttered, enthusiasm certainly lacking, "because he _damn_ sure hasn't in these past months."

Gripping the handles of the double doors, she swung them open to the world beyond.

'Well, that wasn't so hard.'

She stepped out into the hallway, noticing that there were no guards. Then she realized that her door hadn't been locked either.

'Great, now I _know_ I'm not supposed to be out here,' she thought to herself. 'If a servant or guard catches me… Ugh, I've probably just written my own ticket to the dungeons.'

A soft, extremely faint melody reached her ears, and Aralenne paused in her steps to listen more carefully. When she realized what she was listening to, her breath nearly caught in her throat.

Piano. Someone was playing a piano.

_How long had it been since she…?_

She lifted her head in determination. With her curiosity awakened, she continued on.

**-XII-**

_I was waiting for so long  
For a miracle to come  
Everyone told me to be strong  
Hold on, and don't shed a tear_

**-XII-**

Drace suppressed the urge not to grimace inside her helmet as Larsa hit another wrong note. The young boy's hands flattened on the keys in barely contained frustration, resulting in a multitude of different pitched notes to spill forth into the room.

"My lord," Drace offered, "perhaps you should retire from the piano for today and move onto your studies."

"But I almost have it right!" He complained, sitting up straight and turning to another page in his music book.

"Why not try playing something within your range? You keep trying to play these pieces that are above your playing abilities."

Larsa said nothing, only squaring his shoulders in determination.

Judge Drace looked at the elegant grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Thank the gods; she only had another hour of listening the young boy's attempts to master the piano before they moved on to his studies in the library.

Not that she minded too much. She thought Larsa played quite well, but his determination and need to outdo himself often resulted in an assault on her ears. The helmet did nothing to stifle it either. If anything it only seemed to magnify the unpleasant parts while blocking the pleasant ones. At least the boy didn't play something like the trumpet…

Then they would _all_ be in trouble.

**-XII-**

_Through the darkness and good times  
I knew I'd make it through  
And the world thought I had it all  
But I was waiting for you_

**-XII-**

Aralenne navigated her way through the palace by following the piano, quietly evading servants and armored guards along the way. As the sound grew louder, her innocent curiosity turned to fear and dread. Had she done the right thing, coming out of her room? Maybe she should have waited for one of the servants to come in so she could request to leave the room…

'How soft I have become,' she thought, smirking sadly. 'When I first arrived here I would never have hesitated to walk right out of that room, and now… now, I'm afraid of my own shadow.

'If my family were here, they would laugh at me,' she thought, rolling her eyes as the image of her Uncle and cousin laughing hysterically popped into her head.

'Ah, this is the room.'

She stepped around the corner, peering at the people inside.

'It's only Judge Drace… and that boy,' she thought with numb realization as her heart pounded inside her chest. He had been the one playing the piano.

'When was the last time I played the piano?' She wondered idly, biting her lower lip. 'It seems like so long ago…'

_Flexing her fingers, she pressed down on the keys, but no pleasant sound came out. The deafening sound of a horn blasted into the room._

_Aralenne's head jerked towards the source of the sound. The horn blared out again, and it was only then that she figured it out. A smile came to her face and she shot up off the bench and out of the room._

_The army had come home._

'I should get out of here,' she thought, her apprehension returning. 'If they see me…'

Despite how light her footsteps were, they did not escape the sharp hearing of Judge Drace. She turned her head, mouth parting in amazement.

"Well," she said, the surprise evident in her voice, "look who's finally come out."

Larsa immediately stopped in his attempt to play, twisting around on the bench.

"Miss Aralenne!" He exclaimed. His face lit up with a smile as big as it was bright.

Aralenne could've sworn her heart stopped right in her chest. She nearly shrunk back out of the doorway at being acknowledged by the two. "I'm sorry, I really am," she quickly apologized, "I was just-"

"There's nothing to apologize for," Drace gently admonished. "Please, come in."

"Yes, come sit down!" Larsa chirped happily, standing up. "I was just practicing my music, do you want to listen to me play? I don't get to play for many people."

Aralenne didn't know what to say. She could only stand there, speechless.

"Uh…"

"Well come on, don't be shy!" Larsa bounded forward, taking her hand and pulling her towards the piano. Aralenne didn't know what to make of this. Her contact with people had been so limited since she had holed herself up in her room. Servants came in while she slept, but other than that, she had not truly interacted a living soul in months.

'Oh boy,' she thought, as the boy bade her to sit next to him on the bench.

'This should be interesting.'

**-XII-**

_Hush, now  
I see a light in the sky, oh  
It's almost blinding me  
I can't believe  
I've been touched by an angel with love_

**-XII-**

With a satisfied smile, Judge Drace strolled out of the music room. She twisted her stiff neck, sighing in relief as the tension left it.

"Drace."

She turned head, recognizing the horned helm of the Judge now walking calmly toward her.

"Ah, Gabranth," she greeted her fellow Judge Magister, nodding her helmet in acknowledgement. "How fare you this morning?"

"Well enough," came his short and curt reply. He looked her over and noticed immediately that she was without her young charge. "Where is the young lord?"

Drace chuckled knowingly beneath her helmet.

"What?" His voice immediately took on a suspicious tone.

"Go take a look in the music room," she told him, folding her arms across her chest plate.

Gabranth frowned inside his helmet, striding towards the doorway. He stiffened at what he saw. Every muscle went rigid, tightening around every bone with such a tension that they could have snapped. He strode back toward Drace, speaking in a hushed voice.

"How long has she been out?"

"Not too long, I think," Drace responded coolly. "She made herself known only a few minutes ago, when Lord Larsa was practicing his music."

"I must inform the Emperor." Gabranth turned, intent on going straight to the throne room, but Drace closed her hand around his wrist. He twisted around in surprise. Drace _never_ touched him.

"Why don't you hold off on that?"

"Why?" He demanded instantly, the tone of his voice and the way he delivered the inquiry taking on the quality of a spoiled child.

"My intuition tells me that it is the right course," she answered, releasing her grip from his arm. "Let her have some time to adjust before you accost her and bring her before His Excellency."

Gabranth threw a distrustful glance down the hall towards the music room.

"I do not like this," he protested, "leaving her alone with Lord Larsa? What if she tries to-"

"You let your mind take you on fabulous journeys Gabranth," Drace answered shortly. "That girl would never harm a child, much less one like Lord Larsa. And I will be watching, so you have _nothing_ to fear." Drace could not help but feel slightly affronted as the young Magister questioned her ways of thinking.

"You put too much faith into this girl."

The woman sighed.

"The only reason you are suspicious of her is because of she was almost your brother's wife. It's time to let go, _Noah_."

Gabranth clenched his jaw, biting back an incensed curse.

"Just watch her."

He strode off angrily, leaving the woman to shake her head in amusement.

**-XII-**

_Let the rain come down and wash away my tears  
Let it feel my soul and drown my fears  
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun…  
A new… day… has… come._

**-XII-**

Aralenne listened to the young boy prattle on, in awe of his innocent nature.

"…oh, and my name is Larsa by the way."

He offered her a small, white-gloved hand, and she shook it gently. Tried as she might, she wasn't able wipe the shy, diminutive smile that began forming on her lips.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Larsa. And, well… I guess you already know who I am," she finished lamely, remembering how baffled she had been earlier when the boy called her by name.

He nodded. "We all know your name."

Aralenne frowned. "We?"

"In the palace," Larsa supplied for her.

She nodded her head in understanding. "I see." She looked at the piano before her, exhaling softly.

"I heard you playing," she said. "You play very well." Actually, Aralenne had caught quite a few mistakes while she followed the sound, but she praised the boy nonetheless.

"Thank you," he answered politely. "Father says it's important for someone like me to be well-rounded. I wanted to take up something in music."

"So, why did you take up the piano?"

"Well," Larsa began, "my brother Vayne says the violin is too screechy, and Father says that the trumpet is too loud, not to mention too boisterous an instrument for one as young as I am. So I chose the piano. It's simple, yet beautiful."

Aralenne had to admire this child's taste.

"And how old are you?" She asked him.

"I'm ten," he said proudly, "but I'll be turning eleven in just a few months."

Aralenne laughed gently. "You're growing up."

Larsa smiled. "Everyone else seems to think that too."

"Well, I must tell you Larsa, you chose the right instrument," Aralenne replied, running her fingers gently along the ivory keys. "The piano can be one of the most beautiful, if played right."

"Do you play also?"

"Since I was a baby," she answered with a smile.

"Then you _must_ play something for me!" He exclaimed, that bright smile of his returning.

She raised her eyebrows, an uncertain frown crossing her face. "I am… not so sure that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Disappointment and genuine curiosity leaked through his voice.

Silence. Actually, Aralenne could _not_ think of a good reason why she shouldn't play. The only excuse she had was her own fear and hesitation.

"See!" Larsa answered smartly. "You have no reason!"

Aralenne grinned and settled her fingers on the ivory keys. "Persistent, aren't you?" She looked up at the piece of music the book was currently open to.

"Only when I need to be," he responded, looking up at the book with her. He noticed Aralenne's still lingering hesitation right away.

"Go on," he encouraged, his blue eyes imploring her silently.

'All right,' she thought with a small ounce of determination, not wanting to disappoint the young boy. 'Let's see if all those months holed up in that room have affected my playing ability.'

The piece started out on a slightly ominous note, then grew into something very soft. To an inexperienced listener the piece sounded wonderful; but Aralenne knew better. She was hesitant, and it came directly from her. This was an unfamiliar piece, and her pianist's hands were stiff and out of practice. Every once in awhile her eyes glanced down at the keys and then up to the music again.

The piece flowed on with a brilliant sound. And as the notes became bolder, so did Aralenne. Her hesitance was forgotten. She no longer had to glance at where fingers landed. The piece took on a life of its own, an intense and vibrant story told only through sound and the emotion that surged from the hands of the one playing.

As the piece neared its end, the notes switched rapidly from delicate to daring. Aralenne couldn't help but smile with confidence as the music came its gallant and exhilarating conclusion as she pressed the last keys in triumph.

She lifted her hands off the piano, letting them drop by her sides. She looked at Larsa, stared at her with a mix between awe and adoration. She and the young boy were content to just stare at each other for awhile until-

"Another one," Larsa insisted.

Aralenne laughed. "Why?"

"Because I want you to," he answered, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Not used to people telling you 'no', are you?" She countered back,

Larsa suddenly looked shy and abashed, as if ashamed of his behavior.

She chuckled lightly. "Let me see…" She said to herself. "What to play, what to play…"

And then it came to her.

"All right," she told him. "I'll play, but I want you to join in with me." She lifted one of his hands up, placing it near the keys she was going to show him. "When I cue you, I want you to play these notes," she pressed down on the keys she wanted him to play, "just like that. It's simple enough that I can do it myself, but I want you to do it. It's good practice."

"Like this?" Larsa asked, pressing the notes

"Just like that," she praised, resting her fingers on the ivory keys of the grand piano. "When I nod, just play them, and don't hesitate."

And so she began.

Aralenne never once had to look down. This was one piece she knew completely by heart, forwards and backwards. As her fingers glided smoothly over the keys, she lifted her head up, gazing off into space as recollections of her past fell in front of her eyes.

"_Hey mommy!"_

"_What is it, sweetheart?"_

…

"_I love you."_

One of her most vivid childhood memories was her mother telling her the story of how she first tried to play the piano. The precocious two-year old had watched her mother play the piano many times, and so one day while visiting Rabanastre, she decided to try it for herself. Everyone in the room nearly had a heart attack as she slammed her tiny hands down on the keys, something vaguely resembling music spewing forth from the instrument.

"_Daddy!"_

"_Yes, my beautiful one?"_

"_Where'd this sword come from?"_

Aralenne's fingers ran smoothly across the keys, the beautiful notes she knew all too well gushing forth like fresh water from a spring.

"_What is it Ashe?"_

"_I'm bored!"_

…

"_You want to go play a prank on Vossler?"_

The notes flowed together with ease, creating a melody of tranquility and serenity. This particular song always put her at ease, calmed her spirit even. Was it because her mother always use to hum it while putting her to sleep? Or was it because it was simply another piece of her past she refused to let go?

"_**You**__, are Lord Rasler?"_

"_I believe so. At least, I was the last time I checked…"_

"_Sarcasm, that's **hilarious**… But I must say, you certainly are prettier than I expected…"_

This piece was old. Supposedly it had been written by someone in her mother's family, though the name and composer were long forgotten. It was one of the first pieces she had attempted, and the first piece she had succeeded at playing.

_A star shot across the evening sky._

"_Basch?"_

"_Hmm?" He turned his head, looking down at her as she sat on the ground, her back against a tree._

"_Do you think it's possible that… maybe somewhere else in Ivalice, two other people are feeling exactly as we are?"_

"_I hope so," he admitted quietly, crouching down next to her. He lifted her face in his hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks as he made her look at him._

"_Otherwise… just what exactly are we trying to save?"_

The piece slowly came to its melodious end. She looked at Larsa, nodding in satisfaction. He played his part beautifully. With a little more practice, he could be better than she had been when she was his age.

"Bravissimo," a voice called out.

Both Aralenne and Larsa twisted around on the bench in disbelief at the intrusion.

Vayne Solidor sauntered into the room, that infamous smirk pulling at his lips.

Aralenne nearly recoiled, but not from fear. Her fear of him had not completely diminished, but still she knew; this was a man she did not want to cross. He intimidated her, but not to the point he did when she has first met him.

But it was quite apparent that Larsa didn't feel the same way.

"Brother!" Larsa exclaimed in surprise, getting up and making for the older man. "I was just asking Miss Aralenne to play something for me."

"I heard," he answered, ruffling his brother's hair. "For a moment I thought that was my brother playing," he looked at Aralenne, "I came to congratulate him on a job well done, but instead I find you seated at the bench. You play beautifully."

"Doesn't she?" Larsa looked up at his brother before turning to face her. Vayne placed his gloved hands on Larsa's shoulders, which seemed to dwarf the child's stature immensely. He seemed so tiny compared to his brother. It made Aralenne want to snatch Larsa back to her side.

"Maybe if you ask her politely," he whispered to the boy, "she'll teach you how to play better."

Aralenne's eyes widened. Her? Teach a son of the Emperor how to play piano?

'What would you have to lose?' Her mind asked her. 'You will not be going back to Dalmasca anytime soon; and even if you could, would you really want to? There is nothing left for you there. Uncle Raminas, Ashe, and Basch are gone. The city is a shadow of its former self. Would you really want to go back?'

"First of all," Aralenne stood up, lifting the music book from the holder and holding it out for Larsa to take, "put this music up. Obviously you are not ready for it."

"But-" He protested.

"If you want to prove yourself, first you must complete the tasks you are given. Now put this music up and get something more suitable."

"It belongs in the library," he told her, taking the book with a white-gloved hand. "I'm going there for my studies in just a bit, perhaps you would like to come with us?" He asked hopefully.

"Us?" She repeated, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Judge Magister Drace and I," Larsa clarified.

"I would not if you came along," Drace spoke up from the corner of the room where she had been standing. "You could peruse the shelves while the young Lord attended to his studies. If," she acknowledged Vayne with a nod of her head, "you would not mind, My Lord."

"I see no problem with it." Vayne surveyed her with his calculating eyes, giving Aralenne the distinct feeling of being under a magnifying glass.

"Well," came Larsa's voice, interrupting her thoughts. "What say you, Miss Aralenne?"

**-XII-**

_Where it was dark now there's light  
Where there was pain now there's joy  
Where there was weakness, I found my strength  
All in the eyes of a boy_

**-XII-**

"I have heard of the vast library of Archades," Aralenne admitted hesitantly as they walked through a vast hallway, "but I never thought I'd be able to see it for myself."

"Oh, believe me, it will make your head spin," Drace replied knowingly. "This library has more books than you will _ever_ be able to read in your lifetime."

"Books on every subject in the study, and more!" Larsa chimed in excitedly. "You will love it!"

**-XII-**

She couldn't help but gasp at what she was seeing.

Drace was correct on her assumption of Aralenne's reaction. Of course, that wasn't even on Aralenne's mind at the moment.

And Larsa was right. She loved it.

This library was _huge_. And even _that_ seemed to be an understatement.

You could fit _airships_ in this giant space. Dozens of them. Not the main ships of the Archadian Fleet mind you, but airships none the less. You could probably fit the Royal Library in Rabanastre in here at least twice. It would take her at least three lifetimes to read all of what was in this library.

In a far corner of the immense room she spotted a small group people, dressed in grayish-purple uniforms. She cocked her head in curiosity.

"Scientists from the Draklor Laboratory," Drace supplied for her. "They are here with their superior, Dr. Cid. Draklor does much of their research here. They shouldn't bother you."

Aralenne nodded, looking away as the researchers glanced in their direction.

"The catalogs are over there." Drace motioned to wooden table stacked with books as thick as Moogles were high, cataloging every book, every article and scroll in the library. "Shall we?"

**-XII-**

'Why were those memories coming back to me earlier?' She thought, absently turning a page in the library's catalog. She was browsing through the literature section, not really searching for anything, just waiting for a title to jump out at her.

"Remarkable child, is he not?"

Aralenne looked up. Drace stood in front of the table, her arms crossed over her chest plate, looking off in another direction.

"Pardon me?"

"Larsa," she clarified.

"Oh, yes. Yes, he is," Aralenne replied softly, looking in the same direction as the Magister, over at the table where Larsa Solidor was seated. Books were laid out all over its surface, and large, ornate globe sat in the center, with Larsa spinning it about occasionally to find a location on it. "It's hard to believe he's only a child of ten."

"Yes, he astounds us all from time to time."

After a minutes' silence, the one question that had been burning within Aralenne for the past hour finally made its way into the conversation.

"Where is his mother?" Aralenne blurted out, before hastily slapping a hand over her mouth. Judge Drace slowly turned her helmeted head. Aralenne looked up at her with wide eyes, becoming quite abashed.

"I apologize. I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

"It's quite alright," Drace replied indifferently. "His mother… she passed away a few years after Larsa was born."

"Larsa formed quite an attachment to you shortly after you arrived here. Since you asked about his mother, I believe I should tell you this now, so as to avoid confusion and many types of… unpleasantness."

"I'm listening," she answered, almost warily. What exactly was this woman getting at?

"You bear a striking resemblance to Larsa's mother. Not just physically, but in personality. She was stubborn, but she was also a kind and gentle woman. And she was quite skillful with the piano, like you."

Aralenne opened her mouth to speak, but the words would not come out. Struck speechless by this revelation, she could only raise her eyebrows.

"You gape like an Ichthon out of water," Drace noted amiably. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong!" She hissed furiously, finally locating her voice. She glanced over at Larsa, making sure he wasn't aware of what they were discussing. "Are saying that he wants me to be his _mother_?!"

"It's not that he _wants_ you to be his mother; he just sees his mother in you," the Magister answered unemotionally. "However, I would not be surprised if he wanted you to replace the mother he barely knew. You should feel honored. How I would love to be in the position you are now."

Aralenne fell silent very quickly. She noticed the sadness in Drace's tone right away.

"He has always been like a son to me," Drace continued, her voice laced with melancholy. "But his feelings do not extend that far. Yet, I am content with what I have." The woman turned towards her, her armor and mail chinking together as she moved.

"What do _you_ have?"

Aralenne opened her mouth to speak, but the judge continued.

"As far as I know, Lady Aralenne, you are not going anywhere. I do not think the Emperor plans to send you back to Dalmasca anytime soon. And even if he did, would you really want to?"

Aralenne said nothing still. Her expression quickly became guarded, masking any emotion that threatened to break through.

"As I thought," the female Magister said flatly. "I seem to recall telling you many months ago to take advantage of our hospitality, and you still have yet to do so. Why?"

"It would be an insult to my family!" Aralenne replied heatedly. "How can I commit to making myself happy and content in the Empire's hands when all of my family is dead because of them! Not to mention my-"

_Fiancé._

Aralenne paused, closing her eyes. "I cannot just cast aside the memories."

"Memories are nice," the woman replied, "but… that is all they really are. You do not have to forget your past, but you can put it behind you as you move toward the future."

"While I do not agree with that philosophy," Aralenne began after the empty silence, "I suppose it makes sense.

"But is it wrong… to not want to move on?"

Drace didn't answer.

**-XII-**

_Hush, now  
I see a light in your eyes  
All in the eyes of a boy…_

_I can't believe  
I've been touched by an angel with love_

**-XII-**

It had been a week since Gabranth had last seen the woman. He had soldiers to drill and attend to, but when next he saw her, he almost couldn't believe the change from when she had first arrived.

She had lost most of her Dalmascan glow. Her face, while still beautiful, no longer retained that healthy radiance that only sunlight could give. However, being half Rozarrian, her tan did not fade all that much.

At times, her smiles and happiness seemed forced. When no one was looking, her face took on a sad expression that only someone like him would be immune to. But despite that, he could tell:

She was trying to move on.

**-XII-**

In the gardens, Aralenne sat on a daybed underneath a gazebo, a book in her hands. Larsa lay on his stomach on the stone floor, the books of his studies strewn out in front of him, a pen in hand.

"Can you sing, Miss Aralenne?"

Aralenne looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow at the question that came suddenly out of the blue.

"I can carry a tune, yes."

'You are such a liar,' her mind told her. 'How many times have you sung in plays for the royal court? How many times did the soldiers ask you to sing for them?'

'Oh, quiet you,' she told herself. 'That was a long time ago.'

"Can you sing something for me?" Larsa asked hopefully, setting his pen down.

"Right now?" She asked nervously.

"Only if you would not mind."

'You are outside,' her mind told her. 'You'll be hard pressed to find someone out here listening.'

Willing her mind to be quiet, she leaned against the pillows, contemplating what to sing.

And although this song was depressing, she sang it anyway.

_You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light  
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind  
Your face it haunts…  
My once pleasant dreams  
Your voice it chased away  
All the sanity in me_

_These wounds won't seem to heal  
This pain is just too real  
There's just too much that  
Time cannot erase_

_When you cried I'd  
Wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream I'd  
Fight away all of your fears  
And I've held your hand  
Through all of these years  
But you still have…  
All of me…_

_I've tried so hard to tell  
Myself that you're gone…  
But though you're still with me  
I've been alone all along…_

**-XII-**

Aralenne's fears of being overheard weren't exaggerated.

Gabranth stood in an alcove that hid him clearly from view, watching the pair carefully, as the Emperor had instructed.

She reminded him of a Siren.

Beautiful. Seemingly innocent. A heavenly voice that men would chance death for if only to hear its echo.

The sight of her made him sick.

And the fact that she was his brother's whore did nothing to lessen the feeling either.

Gabranth turned around, anxious to be away from this woman, but found himself faced with another obstacle.

"I saw that," Drace said smoothly, coming to a stop in front of him.

"Excuse me?"

"You were watching her," the female Judge stated, crossing her gauntleted arms.

"Are you that worried over the young lord?" She asked him.

"Or is she that mesmerizing to you?"

Gabranth felt a retort rise to the surface, but he did not allow it to escape.

"How incredibly fitting," she continued. "While your brother lies imprisoned beneath Nalbina, you see fit to pursue his fiancée."

"I am not, nor would I _ever_, pursue her.

"Besides, I have no interest in younger women as it is," he added, as an afterthought.

"Oh come now," Drace teased him. "You and that brother of yours must have _something_ in common…"

Gabranth gritted his teeth, keeping his temper in check and knowing better than to lash out. She was purposely trying to get a rise out of him, he knew that much. How many times had she used this tactic? And how many times had he fallen for it?

"She is quite beautiful," Drace mused. "At any rate, I think it should be worth mentioning that exposing your face to her would be-"

"Absolutely out of the question," Gabranth interrupted. "I never have any intention to do so."

"Yes, I imagine she'd have quite the breakdown. Seeing you might just send her over the edge."

**-XII-**

"You think I should continue to let my son fraternize with this woman?"

"She has an incredibly positive influence on him, my lord," Gabranth spoke beneath his helmet. "Drace tells me that in just the past few days she has never seen him work harder on his studies. I believe he is trying to impress her, the way a child wishes to please a parent."

"He appears to hold sway over her as well. She adores him, and can never deny anything he requests of her. You could most likely use this to your advantage.

"I see," Gramis replied, not once looking at him.

"You may go."

**-XII-**

Ugh, the ending felt kinda rushed to me. The part where Aralenne sang, I was going to write more, but I wanted to make this cutoff so bad I just left it as it was. I'll go back and edit, I promise!

I hope Deryssa didn't come across as one of those demanding wives, you know, the kind you see on tv who always have to know _everything_. The reason she presses Marius so much about the letter from Rozarria is because it's actually a serious matter. It may not seem like a big deal now, but it will be…

I'm kinda laughing about how I went off into a tangent about Aralenne's hair… scratches head nervously Sometimes I just have stop with forwarding the chapter and write about some of the simpler things, you know? I actually have really soft hair too, like Aralenne. Trust me, it's more of a curse than a blessing. I get so many split ends like you wouldn't _believe_… :-)

The little line earlier in the chapter about how Basch would never kiss her if she cut her hair, that was inspired by a story I heard at a family get-together. One of my aunts has this long, dark curly hair that falls to her waist, and she really wants to cut it because it's hard to manage. Well, her son has this beautiful, blonde curly hair, and her husband told her that if she cut _her_ hair, he'd shave their _son's_ hair off! And she loves her son's hair, so hasn't mustered up the courage to cut hers…

Anyway, sorry about no cutting to Basch in this chapter… And as a matter of fact, I'm probably not going to cut the story to him unless I absolutely feel I need to change the POV. You'll probably see him in flashbacks, but that's it. And speaking of those teeny little flashbacks Aralenne had while she played, those were never intended, but the song she was playing is called 'Eternity -**Memory** of Lightwaves-, so I just decided to incorporate little memories while she was playing. Yeah, I read into stuff like that waaaay too much.

Ugh… Vayne, Larsa, Drace, and Gabranth all in one chapter. I hope I kept them in character, or at least kept their personalities believable, particularly Larsa. Even though he acts very mature in FFXII, he's still a kid, and right now he's 2 years younger than he was in the game. I just wanted to bring out the innocent, child-like side of him because that is what ultimately brings Aralenne out of her shell.

Oh! Before I go, I wanted to get reviewer's opinions on something. All the songs featured in the story, I've been thinking about compiling them all into a folder, compressing it, and then putting it up somewhere for download. I just wanted to know if you guys would download it if I were to put it up. I've also been thinking about putting up individual songs for those who request it, if they have most of the songs on the playlist and don't feel like downloading the whole folder. But yeah, that's all I wanted to ask!


	9. VII: Anxious Hearts

Woohoo! Over 5,000 hits! Awesome reception on the last chapter, and it's all thanks to my wonderful reviewers. Everyone seemed to like that little scene with Aralenne's parents, and one person commented that they were looking forward to when Aralenne met Al-Cid. That will be an… _interesting_ chapter, just put it that way. I've already begun work on it actually; the inspiration struck, and I began typing away. There will be some shocking revelations, to say the least.

Lenne and Larsa's bonding moment was well loved by all, which took some stress off me, because I was nervous on how people would take my interpretation of Larsa. Most of you, however, said that he seemed more 'real' and less the 'mature little boy' we see during FFXII. And you all seemed to like the way Drace, Gabranth, and Vayne were written, so I was quite happy about that. Keeping everyone in character seems to be my main worry whenever I write a chapter… And it was with this one too. Why? You'll see…

**A note:** for those of you who might not have visited the first prologue in a while, it endured a major re-edit about few days after I last updated I'm talking about the last actual chapter, not that author's note I posted. It would have been right at the end of July. This isn't like the other editing sprees I've gone on; originally it had just a little over 7,000 words. Now it has a little over 10,000, which is longer the 2nd prologue, which I went back and edited quite a bit too. While I was editing the 1st prologue I went back and changed a lot of dialogue, and added quite a lot too. There were quite a few parts that I changed because I knew they could have been written a lot better than they originally were. I would just tell you what's been changed and/or modified, but the list would be too long. Trust me, I know, I wrote one and then deleted it, because it took up almost a whole page. ;)

**Anxious Heart **[Coincidence, no?!]-(Final Fantasy VII OST) www(dot)bluelaguna(dot)net (Anyway, there's really no specific part to play this, it just kinda sets the mood for the chapter.)

Anxious Heart has gotta be one of my favorite FF7 songs. And as you probably guessed, that's where this chapter got its name. I'm all about paying little homages to other FFs. Plus, the name fit the mood of the chapter. But it's just pure coincidence that I happened to give this name to Chapter 7 of the story. Purely unintentional. But kinda cool. :] I was originally going to use the Crisis Core remix of Anxious Hearts (A Closed-Off Village) but decided to go for the original instead. It seemed to fit better. But the remix could work just as well. You can find it remix in the soundtrack folder if you downloaded it. The link to my filefront account is still on my profile. I hope Anxious Heart doesn't sound too creepy for this chapter, but it does have an ominous air about it. Personally I think the CC remix is the creepier one.

Oh, if you're checkin out my filefront account, download 'Unknown Soldier'. That was supposed to be my first FFXII vid, but my Ashe tribute ended up taking that spot. Youtube kicked it off, because of friggin copyrights and licensing crap… grrr…

Anyway, you'll find a few more homages to other FFs in here. Try and spot 'em. Unfortunately, there's no prize. :[

Speaking of the soundtrack and albums folder, if any of you downloaded them, you probably noticed that there are a couple songs in there that I haven't designated for a part of the story so far. Don't worry, they'll get their mention soon. I just wanted you to have them in advance. Though I should say that Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' and 'Fur Elise' will be pieces that Aralenne will play, though I'm not sure when.

**-XII-**

Chapter 7 Anxious Hearts

**-XII-**

She had been wandering through the endless rows of shelves when she saw _her_.

The woman smiled at her gently, as if she were smiling at a child. She had a peaceful air about her, as if she lived in a world where nothing could go wrong.

Aralenne frowned slightly, cocking her head to the side.

The image in front of her nearly seemed like a self-portrait, yet with so many distinctions. Long, dark hair fell just a little below her shoulders in soft waves, framing her fair, heart-shaped face. Pale, gray-blue eyes stared into hers, as. Not as piercing as her children's, but they had that kind of playful 'I know something you don't know' expression about them.

But that wasn't what held her attention.

A red ribbon was wrapped around one wrist and woven through her slender fingers.

Aralenne's hand immediately went to her hair. The silk of the red ribbon that tied it brushed her fingers, a subtle reminder of a child's affection for her.

But how far did it go?

Was she just a mere replacement?

What was the _real_ story behind the figure in the portrait?

"Lovely woman," a voice commented casually from the end of the row.

Aralenne sucked in a sharp breath, twisting around upon the sudden intrusion.

A man stood at the far end of the shelf, holding a book in one hand, and the other flipping through the pages leisurely.

"Dr. Cid, hello," she acknowledged the older man politely, making her way towards him. Despite the good doctor's kind, and at times, eccentric, nature, she found his odd tendency of talking to himself a bit… unsettling.

"Here on research again?" She stopped just short of a few feet.

"Actually, no." He snapped the book shut, slipping it back into its place on the shelf. He regarded with a serious gaze through his glasses, as if scrutinizing her in some way.

"What do you know about fine literature, Lady Aralenne?"

She drew back in surprise. That was one question she hadn't been expecting. Nearly every time she had run into the man during her times with Larsa in the library, he somehow managed to enlist her into helping him find books on magicite for his research. So, naturally, his inquiry had come as quite a surprise.

"You see, I find myself in dire need of a good book to read," he continued.

Aralenne strolled along the aisle, scanning the titles until she found one she knew quite well.

"Well, how about _I Want to Be Your Canary_, by Lord Avon?"

She turned her head toward him, pursing her lips and waiting for his approval.

"A wonderful epic," Cid replied, still perusing the shelf he stood in front of. "Read it when I was schoolboy."

Aralenne smiled, pulling the book out.

"Although I must say, I found it to be incredibly dull."

Aralenne slumped, the smile vanishing off her face as she pushed the book back onto the shelf with a sigh. She kept on walking, searching the titles until another one jumped out at her.

"How about _Loveless_? It's one of my favorites."

"A beauitful poem, extremely well-written. Did you know they recently turned it into a play?"

She reached for the book, sliding out an expensive, leather-bound copy of the epic poem.

"But, I found it to be quite overly dramatic."

'Remind me to never help him pick out a book again,' Aralenne thought to herself, shoving the book back onto the shelf. 'Picky old man. You can't praise a book and then say it's dull. That's oxymoronic…'

"Aralenne!" A young voice called. She immediately lifted and turned her head at the sound. The hint of a smile had already formed on her lips. "It's almost time for lunch!" The voice continued impatiently. "Come on, we'll be late!"

She turned back toward Cid, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

"You'll have to find a librarian to help you out with that book, Doctor."

Cid stared after her with an unreadable expression, watching as she met up with Larsa at the end of the row.

"It _is_ quite amazing how those two look like mother and son," he murmured, turning his head away when they walked out of sight.

'_Quite amazing.'_

Cid smirked to himself, pulling another book from the shelf. It really had been a long time since he enjoyed a good book. A pity it was so hard to find one these days.

'_Someone should keep an eye on that girl… There's something strange about her…'_

"Something strange indeed…" He murmured. "But what is it?"

Silence hung in the air.

**-XII-**

It never mattered whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner; with the exception of Larsa, who always tried to fill in the silence, it was nearly always quiet at the table. Gramis occasionally conversed with his sons, but never longer than a few minutes. Vayne rarely spoke, but would occasionally ask about Larsa's progress in his studies. Sometimes he would ask questions of Aralenne, but she tended to keep her answers short-worded.

These meals were always uneventful, and it was almost always just the four of them, save for when Dr. Cid was invited as guest for dinner. Sometimes the Emperor was absent, due to illness or a meeting with the senate. Vayne rarely ducked out, but even he missed meals with them occasionally. Sometimes it was just Aralenne and Larsa, which she was often thankful for. Larsa's company was infinitely more enjoyable than that of his father and brother. It was during these times that they usually watched over by Judge Drace or overseen by another Magister, whose name, she had learned, was Gabranth.

Larsa seemed to like him well enough, but the Judge made Aralenne uneasy, and the fact that he never said a word only served to unnerve her further. Now that Aralenne thought of it, he was actually the first Magister she had came into contact with. He was the one retrieved her from her cell as they were approaching Archadia. She nearly shuddered when she thought of how he had abruptly jerked her up from the floor, and then proceeded to drag her through the maze of an airship. She thought of how coldly he had responded when she asked where he was taking her once they had departed the airship.

Aralenne often spotted the intimidating silhouette of his armor when she and Larsa were alone, giving her the distinct impression that he was following them, or more specifically, her. She always did her best to ignore him, but the feelings of anxiousness remained. When she inquired to Drace about him, she was surprised to learn that he was actually the youngest out of all the Magisters. And supposedly the top in his class at Archadia's Military Ackademy.

While Aralenne was preoccupied herself with conflicting thoughts, Larsa took the opportunity to approach his father with something that had been on his mind for the better part of the morning.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know that there is a new play showing at the theater here in the city?"

"I did not," he replied earnestly, taking a sip of the freshly brewed tea in his glass as Larsa explained the play to him. It tasted bitter, but it soothed the often recurring ache in his throat, not to mention it was one of the few things that often preventing him from coughing so much.

"Well, I was thinking…" Larsa said tentatively, "the first showing is tomorrow night. It would be wonderful if we could all go see it together, don't you think so?"

Gramis paused in his eating, regarding Larsa with a gentle expression. He always admired his youngest son's attempts at getting their family to spend more time with each other, but he feared this was one occassion he would have to miss.

"I apologize, my son. I have an important meeting with the senate tomorrow night. And I fear my illness may be coming back also."

Larsa's face fell disappointedly, but he soon focused his attention on Vayne, who stopped mid-sip in his wine.

"I'm afraid I cannot," he smiled apologetically. "But I promise to make it up to you, Larsa. In the meantime… " Vayne looked in Aralenne's direction, who was quickly aroused from her troubled thoughts when she became aware of the brooding silence that suddenly hung in the air.

She wanted to shrink down in her chair as everyone's attention became directed on her.

"Why don't you go with him Lady Aralenne?" Vayne suggested, lifting his fork to his mouth and swallowing whatever had been on the end of it.

Both Larsa and Gramis looked at him in surprise. Gramis was able to mask his at once, but Larsa just sat there, looking joyful at his brother's suggestion. Aralenne however, didn't know what to make of this new proposition.

"Me?" She asked, finding her voice, looking between Larsa, Vayne, and the Emperor.

"I think you deserve a night out," Vayne responded, a little too casually for her liking. "You've been on good behavior… What say you father?"

Aralenne nearly scoffed at the 'good behavior' remark, but focused her gaze on Gramis, praying inwardly that he would say yes. A night out in the city? With Larsa? Nothing could be more delightful, in her opinion. Even if the city was Archades.

"I see no reason why you should not," Gramis said slowly. "You have been trapped inside of this palace long enough. I trust that you will not do anything… unwise."

Aralenne nodded her head in agreement, not knowing whether to be flattered or fearful.

**-XII-**

It was the night of the play, and Aralenne sat in front of the vanity, staring blankly into the mirror as the servant painfully twisted her hair into an elegant knot at the back of her head.

The dress she wore was an elegant peach evening gown, with a low, straight cut neckline and several thin, tiny straps that went over her shoulders and criss-crossed in the back. And speaking of the back, the dress was almost completely backless, the exception being the peach ribbons that laced her up and ended in a bow at the small of her back, exposing dozens of diamond-shaped pieces of flesh.

"An evening out in Archades," came a familiar voice. "I envy you, Lady Aralenne."

"Judge Drace," she replied, flinching as the servant pulled her hair. Aralenne saw the Judge enter the room leisurely, pausing when she was a few feet away.

"I know," she answered, "I'm very excited. Hopefully tonight will be wonderful." Then the meaning of the female Magister's words hit her.

"Wait. Envy?" She questioned, looking at the older woman by way of the mirror. "You're not escorting Larsa and I to the theater tonight?"

The woman shook her head. "I am afraid not. The Emperor has given that charge to another. Judge Gabranth will be your escort for this evening."

Aralenne had the decency to keep her face from looking appalled, but Drace caught the slight grimace anyway, and laughed.

"You still don't like him do you?'

"He hasn't given me a good reason why I should," she gritted out, grinding her teeth together as the servant pulled on her hair yet again.

"He is not so bad," she replied kindly, "once you get to know him."

"While that may be true, I don't really think I want to," she admitted sheepishly, smiling awkwardly at the Judge as a few tendrils of hair were pulled from the bun to frame her face. The servant then slid a jewled pin in the shape of a flower into the bun, before smoothing back the hair on Aralenne's scalp, making sure nothing was out of place.

Aralenne stood up, picking up the skirts from around her feet. The silk of the gown was covered in a thin, sheer layer, giving the dress a fluttery look, which Aralenne wasn't used to.

"Are you ready?" Drace asked, holding out a velvet cloak that matched her dress.

Aralenne accepted the garment and placed it over one of her arms. "Would it matter if I wasn't?"

**-XII-**

As soon as Aralenne began to descend the staircase, she almost wished she hadn't.

Vayne _and_ the Emperor stood at the foot of it, along with Larsa.

"Doesn't she look beautiful, brother?" Larsa asked, watching Aralenne as stepped off the last step.

"Indeed she does," came the smooth reply. Vayne's sharp eyes scanned over her appearance; from the elegant dress, to the gold bracelets on her wrists, to the dangling earrings with tiny crystals the caught the light and reflected a myriad of colors.

Aralenne blushed awkwardly. She blushed from Larsa's sentiment, but awkwardly because Vayne agreed with him, not to mention the little once over he just made. He always gave her the feeling of being under a magnifying glass. Then she caught sight of Judge Gabranth standing off to the side, staring, it seemed, straight at her. She quickly averted her eyes. What was it with that man? He was just as intimidating as Vayne, and that said a lot.

Aralenne then became dimly aware of the Emperor's eyes on her. She could feel her heart beat a little faster. Being under Vayne's eyes didn't compare to this. Vayne was a man closer to her age, and from the way he always seemed to stare at her, she naturally assumed that he must have feelings of attraction toward her. She could understand that. She could deal with that.

But none of that mattered, because to the Emperor of Archadia, she wasn't a prisoner of war, or some tool used to negotiate with Rozarria, or just someone pretty to keep around the palace.

No, to the Emperor of Archadia, she was the living embodiment of his long dead wife.

And that could never compare to the agitation she felt when she was around Vayne or Gabranth. The feelings of anxiousness she felt when around the Emperor never seemed to subside, no matter what thoughts she filled her mind with to get rid of the emotion.

"Have a wonderful time, the two of you," Gramis said, surveying them through watchful eyes. It seemed to Aralenne that the sentiment had been mostly directed at her.

"I believe we will," she answered politely, looking down at Larsa and running a hand through his hair. He quickly pushed her hand away, looping his arm through hers.

"Are you ready?" He asked, leading her to the private aerodrome after they had said their farewells to his family.

"I can't wait," Larsa said excitedly as they stepped into the transport, Judge Gabranth behind them.

"Neither can I, Larsa," she replied, smiling at him as she sat down, smoothing out of the skirt of her dress as she did so.

"Neither can I," she whispered, looking through the window of the transport at the setting sun.

**-XII-**

Aralenne kept her hand on Larsa's shoulder as they were led through the throng of nobles toward their private box. She held her head high, doing her best to ignore the blatant staring and unsubtle whispering that occurred as she walked past the many nobles along the way.

"_Who is that?"_

"_I've never seen __**her**__ before…"_

"_Is that the young Lord's __**mother**__?"_

"_She's too young to be his mother, and besides, the Empress died __**years**__ ago…"_

"_Who is she?"_

"_She must be a relative…"_

"_I heard that the Emperor took a Dalmascan prisoner from the war…"_

"_What would a __**prisoner**__ be doing with the young Lord Larsa?"_

"_She's tanned… she must be Dalmascan."_

"_More like Rozarrian filth to me."_

Aralenne struggled not to bite her lip as their blatant comments inadvertently made her temper flare up slightly. Fools. What did they know?

"There will be a judge waiting for you when the play is over," Gabranth said stiffly as they say down. "He will escort you to the transport, which will take you to the after-party, where I will meet you."

"And where will you be in the meantime?" Aralenne asked, twisting in her seat to look up at him. "I thought _you_ were supposed to be our escort." She stared at him with disbelieving eyes. He was just going to _leave_ them there with a lesser soldier?

Gabranth tilted his head down to look at her. Aralenne looked him straight in the eyes, or where his eyes should have been, rather. Just one more thing that disturbed her about him. She couldn't even see his damned eyes through that helmet.

"The judge will guard the two of you just fine," he responded coldly. "_I_ have important business to attend to."

But he didn't tell her that that involved a bar and and glass of the strongest alcohol in Archadia. Right now, a few drinks were a thing he desperately needed. He had spent so much time around this woman lately while keeping an eye on Lord Larsa, and it was driving him to the edge. The more time he spent around her, the more his hate began to fade…

And that just would not do.

Aralenne frowned as he walked away, turning back around in her seat to face the stage. She busied herself with reading the program to pass time until the lights finally dimmed, and the play began.

**-XII-**

Aralenne and Larsa were all smiles as they exited the theater. The judge had been waiting for them, just as Gabranth had told her, and by then, her feelings for the Magister that had left them were forgotten.

"I've heard that the actors from the play are supposed to be at this party," Larsa said, stepping into the transport.

"Well then, we will have to congratulate them on a job well done," she replied with a smile as she stood from her seat, and followed the boy out. "They deserve it."

They followed the judge, with a few of his comrades guarding the rear. Aralenne and Larsa continued to converse with one another, not paying attention to where exactly they were being led.

But when Aralenne no longer heard the clinking of metal or the rustle of chainmail, she immediately knew something was wrong. She snapped her head up, gasping in astonishment.

"Hey, where'd they…!"

Their escort was nowhere in sight.

"…go…?" She whispered. Looking behind them, she noticed that the rear guards had disappeared as well.

Larsa seemed just as equally surprised.

"What the-"

It was only then that Aralenne looked around at their environment. And what she saw stunned her into disbelief.

The buildings that surrounded them weren't made of the same reddish-orange brick like nearly all of Archades was. The stone was blackened in a lot of places, and cracked. In short, everything just looked aged and decrepit. And immediately with a jolt of fear, she knew; this was not the place they were meant to be.

"They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air," she heard Larsa mumbling to himself, looking down a dark alleyway. "I don't understand…"

"Larsa," she began hesitantly, her eyes darting around the street. "I don't think this is where we meant to be dropped off…"

"What makes you say that?" He asked curiously, turning back around to face her.

A gust of cold air suddenly wafted by, making her shiver, and the sheer train of her dress fluttered around her ankles.

"Because there are no streetlights out here…"

Aralenne turned toward the young boy, with every intent of grabbing him by the wrist and literally drag him, while running, back to the transport and sealing the door shut until Judge Gabranth found them.

Her eyes widened.

Time seemed to come to a complete stop. She willed her body to move, but every muscle had seemingly tensed up in a moment of shock. Whatever breath had been present in her lungs quickly forced its way out in that moment of horror.

'_Larsa!'_

**-XII-**

Larsa frowned as Aralenne merely stared at him, her lips parted slightly, her face paler than snow, looking as if she had just seen a ghost.

Then he gasped in surprise. For a moment, Aralenne had completely disappeared from his line of sight.

It all happened so quick that Larsa didn't even know that he had suddenly moved from being at the entrance of the alley, to now being across the street.

The heavy sword crashed down, cleaving deep into the cobblestone as if it were nothing more than butter.

"Who are you?" She spat venomously, one arm tightly wrapped around Larsa, the other in front of him, as if to shield him. Her arm was locked in an iron grip around his shoulders. He would have been smothered against her waist had his head not been turned the other way.

'I almost died just now…' He thought numbly. 'How could she have moved that fast? I didn't even see her… Who is that man?'

"You bastard," she gritted out coldly to the figure cloaked in shadows of the alley. "Attacking a _child_!"

Larsa was astounded at the change in Aralenne, more so than the group of men that had suddenly appeared in front of them. Her face was now a mask of barely controlled rage and anger. He had never seen any expression like that on Aralenne's face before.

It frightened him.

"Ah, it seems I was mistaken in the dark," came a distinctively male voice. "I apologize, this helmet obscures my vision terribly. That blow was meant for you."

The person stepped into what little light the waning crescent moon had provided.

It was the judge.

"You!" She exclaimed, her eyes widening. But then the clanking of armor told her that he wasn't the only one.

Two more armored soldiers stepped out of the darkness behind the judge, flanking him on both sides. She looked to her left to see another one coming around the corner, sword in hand.

She mentally berated herself for not keeping an eye on where exactly they had been going. How could she have missed that? She wandered right into their trap, like an unwitting lamb to slaughter.

Aralenne looked around desperately, searching for an escape route. The only way to get out of there was to go back the way they came. But she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

She wouldn't be going back to the transport. She wouldn't run from this. She would get Larsa to safety, and then she would fight. She would not stand there, afraid, and do nothing.

She would not let this night end the same way as Nalbina.

"Larsa, run," she whispered, barely moving her lips so as not to give away what she was about to do. "You need to go back to the transport. I'll hold them off."

The boy looked up at her in disbelief. She wanted him to do _what_?

"What?"

"Run!" She screamed at him, shoving him forward in the direction they came from. "Get out of here!"

Larsa took off in a terrified run, and Aralenne spun around just in time to catch the soldier's wrists to prevent the blade from striking her.

'I have no weapon,' she thought, shoving the man away as they began to corner her against the wall she had slowly began backing towards.

'But I do have this.' She thrust out her right hand, palm out, with her left arm bracing her wrist.

When was the last time she had used magic?

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes before she spoke the incantation. "Gravity."

Her fingers glowed briefly as purple energy radiated through them. Then suddenly, it exploded outward, forming a brilliant set of purple spheres. They rose high in the air before swooping down upon her opponent, engulfing him in the devastating energy.

She managed to bring up a temporary protective shield as she darted for the fallen soldier's sword. The shield immediately shattered when the judge struck it, but it was just enough time for her to swing the sword around and block the heavy weapon.

Just that single Gravity spell had weakened her more than she had anticipated. Magic was not her forte, and as such, she rarely used it. But she knew enough to be able to fight back. She knew that if she could get those two soldiers down, she might have a chance against the judge.

"Thundara!" She exclaimed breathlessly, spinning around to block the thrust of the judge's sword.

The spell managed to engulf the two soldiers, their metal armor, being an excellent conductor, but her power wasn't strong enough. A weak Thundara might as well have been a mere Thunder. It disoriented them severely, but only managed to drive them further into rage when they regained their senses.

She raised her right wrist in front of her face to block another blow, crying out in pain as the sword dug deep into her arm. She felt another stinging pain in her shoulder. Then in her side. Her ankle. Her head…

Aralenne fell to the frenzied blows of the soldiers, but in her desperation, she managed to raise both of her hands in a last ditch attempt to bring up another protective shield.

'Please, let this work,' she begged inwardly, flinching from the pain that raced all over her body.

'Let me be strong enough.'

A resounding 'clang' met her ears.

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes.

Instead of a bright, glowing mesh of light, her vision was flooded with blackness.

'What the…?'

Something soft caressed her face. Aralenne shuddered at the feeling, inhaling sharply. And then she realized…

It was a cloak. She lifted her head painfully, eyes wandering upward.

A crimson red emblem stood out amidst the black fabric like a beacon in the darkness.

The emblem of House Solidor.

Gabranth turned his head to look at her. He had blocked all three enemy weapons with ease, as if it were nothing more than child's play.

"Judge… Gabranth," she choked out, letting her head fall, the wound at the back of her head becoming too much for her to bear.

"Are you alright?" He asked calmly.

"I am now," she answered quietly.

He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch at the sentiment.

"Good."

Aralenne gasped and staggered back as Gabranth rushed at her attackers, bringing one of his swords down in a merciless swing that sent blood spraying through the air.

She managed to drag herself away from the fight, crawling towards the opposite wall as quickly as her pain-wracked body would allow.

She couldn't help but close her eyes. She didn't want to see this. She didn't want to hear the dying screams, or the sound of a blade slicing through flesh. She didn't want anything to do with it.

Only when the atmosphere fell silent, did Aralenne open her eyes.

Gabranth stood in the intersection of the street, a sword in each hand.

He was surrounded by bloody and mangled corpses.

She put a hand over her mouth, the coppery smell of blood hitting her nose instantly.

He walked over to where she sat, calmly putting his swords back in their original position on his back.

He looked up, silently thanking the gods that he was able to arrive there on time.

He then turned his attention on Aralenne, who seemed grimly hypnotized by the macabre scene he had just created a mere minute ago.

Frowning inside his helmet, he turned his head, following her gaze to the men he had just so mercilessly butchered.

Gabranth crouched down in front of her, effectively blocking them from view.

He lifted a hand to her face, forcing her gaze to be directed at him.

"Can you stand?"

Aralenne shook her head. "I don't think so…"

She looked quite ashamed of that fact, he observed. Gabranth scanned over her person, taking in the sight of a large amount of blood seeping through the skirt of her dress. She had a deep gash on her arm as well.

He lifted his eyes up toward her face. He knew she must have a head wound because blood was slowly trickling around from the back of her neck onto her collarbone. It began seeping into the neckline of the dress, staining it a dark red. Her hair had come undone as well, some of it falling around her neck, sticking together as the blood running down her neck began to congeal.

"We must leave now."

"Where's Larsa?" She instantly demanded.

"He is safe," Gabranth replied nonchalantly. "My guard is with him now, at the transport. They are waiting for us."

As comforting as his words were, she ignored them to pose another question. "Who were those men?"

"None of mine," he stated bluntly. "I don't know who sent them, but they do not belong to the Imperial army. This matter will be investigated, obviously. But I am done answering questions. It seems I'm going to have to carry you back to the transport."

A fact he didn't seem too thrilled with.

"If we could just wait for a moment, I would be able to walk on my own," she protested.

"That is time that we don't have," Gabranth answered shortly. "Must I subdue you by force?"

Aralenne bit back the retort that threatened to rise. Knowing she had no choice, she lifted her arms, extending them toward the Judge Magister.

Gabranth pulled her uninjured arm gently around his neck, slipping his own arm around her waist and lifting her up to her feet, bracing her against his armor. Then he slipped that arm underneath her knees, lifting her up effortlessly. He shifted her body so as to cradle her against his chestplate, before starting off down the dark street.

**-XII-**

Gabranth continued to hold Aralenne, even throughout the ride in the transport. Larsa sat on his right side, leaning against him tiredly, his eyes threatening to close every now and then. The boy had been so worried for Aralenne when he had gone to retrieve her; all he could speak about was how she told him to run and how he left her behind. The young boy's eyes were red and puffy by the time Gabranth had returned.

Not soon after they had departed for the palace, Gabranth noticed that Aralenne had become very quiet. All the better for his growing migraine. The Emperor would not be pleased about this; he could only imagine what kind of reprimands he would receive after he got the young woman to a healer, not to mention the things Vayne would say…

Needless to say, it was not something he anticipated.

He looked down at the woman in his arms, raising an eyebrow when he saw that she had fallen asleep.

He carefully manuvered her head onto the part of his shoulder that was not covered in metal, shifting in his seat to readjust his armor. Then he noticed that his left hand, the one that held her head, felt uncharacteristically strange.

'Why is this glove damp?' He thought irritably, eyeing it with displeasure.

He ran his index finger down the fabric of the expensive seat, watching in growing alarm as it left a dark red streak in its path. Then he pressed his whole palm against the upholstery, frowning when his hand was met with a slight resistance as he pulled it away.

His eyes widened in panic.

Then he quickly yelled for the driver to hurry up.

**-XII-**

_You don't remember me,  
But I remember you…  
I lie awake and try so hard  
Not to think of you  
But who can decide  
What they dream?  
And dream I do…_

**-XII-**

"_I'm sorry," Aralenne lamented in the dark._

"_Why?" He asked her despairingly._

"_I wasn't strong enough," she said simply, letting her head fall against her chest._

"_Do not blame yourself for this," he insisted. "I'm the one who should apologize, Lenne."_

"_You did everything you could," she protested gently. "That's all that mattered."_

"_But it wasn't enough."_

"_It was enough for me. __You didn't do anything."_

"_I know… I didn't __**do anything**__."_

_He turned around, looking at her with despondent eyes._

"_Aralenne."_

**-XII-**

Aralenne awoke with a start, her chest aching painfully. She reached for the nightstand on her right, hoping to find a glass of water waiting for her parched throat.

The room was lit by a single candle, which was more than enough light for Aralenne to see as she gulped down the water that her right arm was covered in bandages up to her elbow.

She lifted her head, but it felt so unbearably heavy that she had no choice put to let it fall back into the pillow.

The last thing she remembered was being in the arms of Judge Gabranth. She numbly recalled him stepping into the transport, before her memory drew a blank.

'I must have passed out. How humiliating…'

She sighed, using her uninjured arm to pull the blanket tighter around herself.

'Basch… you rarely visit me in my dreams… why do you start now? Why must you torture me like this?'

Deep inside, she already knew the answer.

It kept her alive.

However painful it might have been, it enabled her to keep on living.

She closed her eyes, anxious to fall asleep once more and escape the memories that were now flooding her mind.

Aralenne soon drifted off…

But she never did escape.

**-XII-**

_I believe in you  
I'll give up everything  
Just to find you  
I have to be with you  
To live, to breathe  
You're taking over me_

**-XII-**

Aralenne sat on a daybed under a pavillion in the gardens, thankful to be outside after days of being forced to rest in bed and recuperate. At the moment, she was writing a letter to her Uncle in Bhujerba. Hopefully she would be allowed to send it.

A soft breeze blew in, ruffling her hair and the paper she was writing on. She never noticed how preoccupied Larsa seemed. He kept biting his lower lip, looking as though he would like to ask her a question, but hesitancy kept him from speaking aloud. After a few minutes of this, he finally got up the courage to blurt it out.

"What was your fiancé like?" Larsa asked curiously, finally getting the question out of his system.

She felt her hand inadvertently tense in its hold around the pen clutched in her fingers. Larsa never noticed.

"Why do you ask about him?" She queried, meeting the child's eyes.

Larsa got up off of his stomach, moving over to where she sat, resting his arms upon the cushions.

"Well, you still wear your ring, which implies that you still have feelings for him… And you wear _his_ ring, which means that you cannot let him go."

Aralenne smiled wryly.

"Well Larsa," she began, trying to word her next "When you lose someone who means a lot to you, it's difficult to let go… no matter how much time has passed." She added, putting a slight emphasis on the statement. She looked back down at her letter, pulling out another sheet of paper so she could continue it.

Larsa fell silent, feeling slightly uncomfortable. But he couldn't just stop in his inquiry; he had to know more.

"Did you love him?"

Aralenne looked up, raising an eyebrow. She slipped the sheets of paper inside of the book she was using as a temporary desk, setting it aside.

"What's with all the questions today?" She asked, leaning forward. "I know you're curious by nature, but this is the first time you've ever asked me about him."

"Did you?" He pressed urgently.

"I… I don't know." She shook her head gently, leaning back against the cushions.

"But you were engaged-"

"It was an arranged marriage Larsa," she answered briskly, wanting to put an end to the conversation. It was hard enough discussing the subject with Drace; with Larsa, it would just be unbearable.

"Not that I didn't have feelings for him," she added. "I just… I'm not sure if it was love or not."

"Did he make you happy?"

"He did." A small smile formed on her lips. "Very happy, actually. He was the type of man who treated anyone as his equal, no matter how young or old. You probably would have liked him."

"If he were alive today, would you leave?"

Aralenne frowned, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Leave?" She questioned.

"Would you leave me to go back to him?" He clarified, his eyes not leaving her face.

She shook her head, not understanding why on earth he would be asking her questions like this.

"He's gone Larsa."

"But would you-"

"That is _enough_ Larsa," she said, a bit more forcefully. He bowed his head immediately, letting the subject go without another word.

"I'm sorry," he said, a few minutes later, "I just…"

Aralenne, already feeling regret for the words she had spoken harshly, reached for the boy, rubbing his shoulder gently. She let out a soft exhale.

"It isn't your fault. It's… it's not a good subject for me to discuss at the moment. One day I'll tell you more of what kind of man he was.

"Come up here," she said, patting the space next to her on the bed, setting her unfinished letter on the small table next to her.

Larsa manuvered up onto the day bed, stretching out beside her on his stomach, laying his head on her chest.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, placing her chin atop his head, the letter to her uncle forgotten.

**-XII-**

Although Aralenne was late, she took her time in wandering to the library. Her ankle still pained her, but there was no sense in rushing. Drace would only chastise her for straining herself in the end.

"Well, if it isn't the Dalmascan whore."

She stiffened, pausing in her steps warily.

An armored figure stepped into view, an intimidating sight to Aralenne, who had never once exchanged words with the Magister.

Judge Bergan. From what little she knew of him, he was not a pleasant man to be around. Whenever Drace came back from a meeting with the rest of the Magisters, she would always be fuming about some disagreement she had with Bergan. This was the first time Aralenne had come into contact with the judge.

"I am not intimidated petty insults, nor a suit of armor," Aralenne replied coldly, before turning back around to continue on her way.

Bergan growled inside his helmet, striding toward her quickly and snatching up her bandaged wrist in one hand.

Aralenne twisted around to free herself from the Judge's grip, but he pressed a gloved thumb against the wound, making her whimper involuntarily. She would not give this man the satisfaction of tears, but if he kept it up, she was going to scream.

He placed a gloved hand over her mouth, forcing her jaw shut in an iron grip. His thumb and index finger dug into her face, making it nearly impossible to make a sound, let alone speak.

"Why are you still here?" He demanded, his voice taking on a soft but dangerous tone.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She managed to gasp out.

"You have since lost your usefulness," he sneered. "The only reason the Emperor keeps you around is because you remind him ever so much of his dead wife."

Aralenne continued to struggle against Bergan, but it was a vain effort.

"The only reason he hasn't killed you yet is because he can't bear the thought of seeing his youngest son unhappy again. The only thing you are to House Solidor is your resemblance to a dead woman, the exception being that you _are not dead_. You have no purpose here."

"Your Honor."

Bergan twisted around upon the sudden interruption.

Aralenne nearly breathed a sigh of relief as Bergan removed his hand from her mouth and a familiar silhouette came into view.

For the second time that week, Judge Gabranth had come to her aid.

Bergan smirked inside of his helmet. He released Aralenne's wrist, making her clench her teeth in pain.

"She's all yours Gabranth," the man said with an air of sadistic playfulness, "have fun."

Bergan walked away, his cloak sweeping behind him.

Aralenne watched the man leave, before heading in the opposite direction, toward the library.

"Lady Aralenne," Gabranth called, making her stop in her tracks. "Come with me." He turned around, heading back down the hallway from where he had originally come from.

'What could he possibly want to talk to me about?' She wondered, never once moving from her spot.

Gabranth paused.

"That was not a request," he added.

She sighed, stepping forward following him hesitantly.

**-XII-**

"You would do well to stay away from Judge Bergan in the future," he said idly, walking into the gardens. "He can be most… unpleasant."

"Yes, I figured that out quite well enough on my own," Aralenne replied sarcastically, following him down one of the paths. "But he's a Judge Magister, so… he wouldn't really… _hurt_ me, would he?"

"Are you that naïve?" He retorted. "Why do you think I'm telling you to stay away from him?"

"I don't know," she answered, stopping and crossing her arms. "Why _are_ you telling me?"

Gabranth immediately paused, turning around.

"Should anything happen to you it would be on my hands, just as it was a week ago when I was not there to protect you and Lord Larsa. I will not chance anything like that again." He spun around, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Ah, I see." She quickly picked up her pace, following him once more. You're just protecting yourself from retribution should he do something untoward against me."

He had no reply. For what reason should he possibly justify himself to her? He had nothing to prove to this woman. She meant nothing to him.

"All this business with Judge Bergan aside," she continued, "I never had the opportunity said thank you, for what you did…"

"And you will never have to," he answered, cutting her off. "I was doing my duty, nothing more, nothing less."

"Duty…" She repeated softly, looking across the greenery that spanded the area. They soon came to a stop with an ivy-covered archway, looking out across the city. "Yes, I believe I have heard the term well-spoken of before."

Gabranth inclined his head toward her. The woman's tone had suddenly taken on a caustic air.

Aralenne let her eyes wander over the city of Archades. She lifted a hand to brace herself against the stone arch, leaning against it gently.

"I've seen too many things done in the name of 'duty'," she said, looking toward the horizon. "By the word 'duty' I have seen the betrayal of someone I once trusted since I was a child."

Gabranth was given the distinct impression that she was not speaking of his brother.

"I have seen 'duty' in the eyes of too many people who believe needless violence and reckless hate is the answer to everything," she continued, her face becoming solemn. "Duty is in right action, and in finding the strength on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves."

Gabranth had nothing to say to her. But what she said had made perfect sense to him.

"By what we do every day, we decide whether we will be the hound that obeys the master, or whether we will be the arbiters of our own destiny."

For awhile they stood there, watching as the sun slowly began to set.

"It seems I misjudged you, Lady Aralenne."

She looked down, a small grin forming. "The feeling is mutual, Judge Gabranth. Perhaps, one day, we can start over."

"Tomorrow is a new day," he replied. "Perhaps we can start then. But…"

"But?"

"But I believe someone is looking for you."

"Aralenne!" A voice exclaimed.

She spun around, a smile lighting up her face.

Larsa bounded through the garden, dashing into Aralenne's extended arms.

She laughed, lifting him up and spinning him around a few times before setting him back down on the ground.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" He asked, concerned. "Aren't I heavy? I mean, you are hurt and all-"

"Not in the least," she told him, bumping her forehead against his before straightening her posture. She still kept an arm looped around the boy's shoulders though.

Gabranth took this as his cue to leave, but was quickly summoned back by Larsa.

"No," the ten-year old commanded, making the man turn around questioningly. "Stay."

Gabranth shook his head. For a moment, Aralenne was sure that he was refusing, but then she could have sworn she heard a small chuckle, and he stepped back toward them, standing back in his original place underneath the arch.

The three of them continued to stand there long after the sun had begun to set and the stars were making their appearance in the night sky.

'This peace…' Aralenne thought serenely, as they finally began to head inside. 'It feels nice… I hope it lasts…'

For Aralenne, it would last approximately a year and a half, before everything came crashing back down again.

**-XII-**

O_O Woah. How'd that happen? How they suddenly go from talking about duty to suddenly wanting to "start over". What the f***? Did that even make _sense_ to you guys? (scratches head in confusion) What a _crappy_ scene. Ugh, did I write that? I must go back and redo that when I get the time. For now, just try and deal. Damn you Gabranth, you make writing so hard! (shakes fist)

I was quite surprised by how long this chapter turned out to be… And then I realized just how much I suck at scenes that involve suspense and action. Those fight scenes… Blegh. But man, I loved the scene where Gabranth had to carry Aralenne! ^_^ It's scenes like those that make me wish I had more artistic talent; I'd so draw it. And Aralenne does display a lot of weakness in this chapter… Hey, personally, I'd get sick at the sight of three or four human corpses just mercilessly slaughtered, but I'm proud of Aralenne for being able to hold her cookies. :]

Anyway, this chapter felt rushed to me. Hmm. I'll probably go back and some more later, specifically some additional Gabranth stuff, but I just wanted get this chapter up. But I didn't half-ass it, so I'm quite proud. And I don't know why, but this chapter was incredibly boring to write. Maybe that's why it refused to be written at first… I swear, I contemplated just skipping this chapter altogether and going straight to the main storyline, but I knew I owed it to all you guys who read and review this story to finish the chapter I started and the one I made you all wait for. But man, the thought was incredibly tempting. If my writing skills are as good as my reviewers give me credit for, I could have made it work. I apologize for any spelling errors in this chapter. I wrote the majority of this on my new laptop that I got back in August, and I didn't feel like paying 100 bucks for the whole 30-day Microsoft Office subscription that came on it, so I installed an old version of Microsoft word on it, and for some reason the red lines that pop up for errors don't… pop up. Normally I'd get someone to beta it for me, but I don't want people reading the chapter before it's actually posted.

But after _this_ chapter I _am_ going to fast-forward the storyline. I've gotta speed things up so I can start on the game's timeline, that way I can start putting up chapters faster. My original idea was to put flashbacks from the past years in other chapters throughout the story, but putting flashbacks where they're not needed can break up continuity. So if you guys think it's a good idea, I might actually put them together in a separate multi-chapter side story. I was also debating on having reviewers give me ideas and I could work them into little oneshots for it too. :\ If you guys think that'd be a good idea, please tell me in a review or PM or whatever.

I hope I wrote Dr. Cid in a believeable fashion! It was hard at first… Oh, and if anyone didn't guess, it was Venat's thoughts/voice that was in italics after Aralenne left. I tried to make it look like Cid was just talking to himself all along, but in reality, he was talking to Venat.

The first time Aralenne spoke to Judge Bergan was actually supposed to take place in Chapter 6 at the dinner from hell, but obviously that idea was scrapped. Then I decided to bring it back, but make the encounter more… venomous, I guess would be the word for it. In the original version (at the dinner), they were just supposed to exchange insults, but I wanted this encounter to go beyond that. I wanted Bergan to physically get in her face, and make threats on her life. I hope I wrote him OK…

Oh, and if you haven't been to my profile in awhile, I have a new icon. It's Basch ^_^. But… if you look closely to the left of him, you might be able to make out a face in the darkness… I don't have photoshop and the photo program I do have isn't very advanced… I just played with the color and faded the two images together. Hell, if I had photoshop I'd be crankin out icons and whatever else I could think of…


	10. VIII: Two Years

OK, so this chapter's about a month or so past my original deadline. I wanted to get it up at the beginning of November, but things suddenly got very stressful for me and I didn't have much time to write. This one was by far the easiest one I've had to write for this story, which I think was partially due to the anticipation of finally hitting the in-game timeline and the many wonderful reviews I received on _Anxious Hearts_. It was very relieving to see that many of my reviewers have still stuck with me once again.

On another note, I am ashamed. (Hides behind hands) While many of you probably agree that last chapter kicked butt, there were so many fricking sentences left uncompleted I nearly had a heart attack. I revised it at once when it was brought to my attention, but then I recently went back through the read it and caught some more. Oh, the _embarassment_… I wanted to crawl in a hole.

But on an exciting note, I'd like to mention that one of my reviewers, _Lady of the Drow_, is going to be drawing a picture of probably the most infamous scene in the last chapter; Gabranth carrying Aralenne. (Insert reaction of your choice here, preferably one that involves jumping up and down) Words can't express how happy I am for her to do this for me. And a few reviewers that I talked to absolutely _raved_ about that scene, so I know they'll be happy. I'm incredibly glad the scenes involving those two were well-received. However, I'll reiterate to you what _Lady of the Drow_ told me.

Two music suggestions for this chapter. **Tifa's Theme**, Advent Children, www(dot)bluelaguna(dot)net. It's the first piano piece played.

Then for the 2nd second piece played towards the end, you'll need **Dearly Beloved**, from the Kingdom Hearts soundtrack, which can also be found on bluelaguna.

**-XII-**

Chapter 8 Two Years

**-XII-**

The beautiful sound of piano wafted through the halls of the palace in Archades. It infiltrated every open door, causing even the most dedicated servants to stop in their tasks and enjoy the melody. Normally he would have paused for a moment to listen, but his current errand prevented him from doing such a thing.

Gabranth soon stood in the doorway of the piano room, carefully eyeing the woman who sat next to Lord Larsa on the bench.

Long, dark hair spilled down her back, the length of it nearly reaching her hips. Half of it was pulled back casually and tied with a red ribbon, and the strands of hair that usually framed her face were pinned back by silver clips both sides.

How much she had changed in the past two years.

Gabranth took a step inside the room, but no further. He cleared his throat to signal his arrival, raising his voice above the music to speak.

"Lord Vayne requests your presence, Lady Aralenne."

Drace turned her head toward him slowly, eyes narrowing inside her helmet at the mention of Vayne.

Aralenne paid his announcement no heed. She never even bothered to turn around and acknowledge him. It was almost as if she remained completely oblivious to his presence.

"Tell Lord Vayne that I am currently in a piano lesson with his brother," she replied after a moment's pause, her fingers gliding over the ivory keys as she continued to play.

"He said that it was an urgent matter," Gabranth answered impatiently, putting a little more emphasis in his words.

"It can wait until I am done," she replied nonchalantly, lifting a hand and turning to the next page in the book of sheet music.

Gabranth closed his eyes. The past two years had clearly changed her, in more ways than one. She no longer hesitated to refuse anything that did not appeal to her.

She seemed every inch the Archadian that everyone percieved her to be.

But he knew better.

"_Now_, my lady," he said, the air of finality in his tone clearly evident. "It will be done now."

Aralenne pulled her hands off the piano, shaking her head and sighing softly as the peaceful melody suddenly came to halt. She reached up toward the music, turning back to the previous page.

"Practice those measures," she told the boy next to her, laying a hand on his shoulder and pointing to the top of the page. "Start at the beginning of this phrase, and stop in the middle of the next page at this one. Make sure you work on your dynamics; you've been having trouble with those lately on this piece."

Larsa nodded, scooting to middle of the bench when Aralenne had stood up, laying his fingers on the keys and looking up at the music.

Aralenne lifted her arms above her head, stretching them out and letting a small yawn escape her mouth. She smoothed out the slightly rumpled skirt of her dress before walking toward the doorway.

"I'll return shortly," she told the female Judge on her way out.

Drace gave a slow nod in response, as if she didn't really believe that statement.

'I hope,' she added silently.

**-XII-**

The hallways inside of the palace were always quiet. They never seemed to echo any type of sound, which always unnerved Aralenne to some degree whenever she listened to the silence too much. Right now the only thing that filled her ears was the sound of Gabranth's armor, jingling and clinking together as he walked.

"I wish you would have let me finish that piece," she protested lightly, trying to start up a conversation. "I was almost done."

She received no reply from the stoic Judge Magister, but knew better than to think anything of it. On some days it was a miracle that she was able to get anything out of the man at all.

Aralenne walked beside him as he led her to Vayne's private study, keeping up with his long strides easily. She lifted a hand to her chin, letting her mind wander.

"What could Vayne possibly want to talk to me for?" She asked, voicing her turbulent thoughts aloud. In the two years she had been here, Vayne had never summoned her for a private audience. In fact, she couldn't even recall where she was alone with him. Nearly every time she spoke with him it was always at the table, or when accompanied by Larsa, Drace, or Gabranth.

"He did not say," the Judge finally replied, turning left at the intersection in the hallway. "Just that I was to bring you there as soon as possible."

It was not a lie, but in truth, he had a clear idea of what it was that Vayne wanted to speak to her about.

But he wasn't about to tell _her_ that.

Why should he tell her? Best to just let her find out on her own. No sense in spoiling the surprise.

"Yes, I figured that out from the way you barged into the piano room and demanded for me to come with you."

"I beg your pardon? I did not _barge_."

Aralenne chuckled to herself. Even after two years, he still could not decipher the difference between serious comments and playful banter.

"What are you laughing about?" He asked suspiciously.

"Your inability to tell sarcasm from sincerity," she told him, a smile forming on her lips. "A sense of humor is something that you are sorely lacking, Gabranth. I don't know how you live without one."

Gabranth smirked inside of his helmet. She thought she could tease him without consequences did she?

Well, two could play this game.

"While that may be, you will not be laughing soon."

"And why is that?" She shot back, as the Judge suddenly came to a stop.

"We're here."

Her playful expression instantly annihilated itself. She looked at the imposing double doors before her, then turned to him, her expression unreadable.

It took quite a bit of Gabranth's resolve to keep from laughing. It had been almost _too_ easy; it was only lamentable that it was over so soon.

"You are not laughing, Lady Aralenne."

She rolled her eyes at his blatant statement. "Clearly not, Judge _Obvious_," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Well, go on then," he said. Gabranth shoved her toward the doors, making her stumble forward ungracefully. She whipped around instantly when she regained her footing, scowling at him with murderous intent.

"Lord Vayne does not like to be kept waiting."

**-XII-**

Vayne Solidor sat at his desk, pen in hand, going over the last of the formal documents that he would need for the senate tonight. He ran a gloved hand through his dark hair, pushing it out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"I was told that you wanted to see me?" A feminine voice inquired softly.

He lifted his head from the paperwork that been demanding his attention.

Aralenne stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Slowly, she made her way into the room, stopping in front of his desk and linking her hands casually behind her back.

"Yes. Please, sit down," he said, gesturing to a chair. "You may be here for awhile."

She lifted an eyebrow at the last statement, but made no objection as she sat down in one of the chairs.

"So," she began casually, leaning back against the leather, "why exactly am I here?"

Vayne set his pen down, moving the paperwork aside and propping his elbows up on the desk. He folded his hands together casually, observing her through piercing eyes. She waited patiently for him to speak, even though the silence was putting her edge.

"I have a question for you," he said at last.

"Alright."

"How well do you know Archadia's system of government when concerning its policy of subservient countries?"

She furrowed her eyesbrows. Did he seriously call her here for a lesson in _government_? Was that it?

"Not very well, I'm afraid," she admitted, keeping her thoughts in check. "At least, not concerning that particular aspect of it."

He nodded understandingly. "Well," he continued, "Archadia has a custom of placing consuls in charge its subjugated cities. It helps keeps the peace," he added, seeing her questioning look.

"That's very… interesting," she replied, for lack of anything better to say. "I didn't know that."

He laughed, knowing fully well that she cared not for his little interrogation.

"How well do you listen to gossip, Lady Aralenne?" He asked, abruptly changing the subject.

'What?' She thought incredulously. 'He really interrupted my lesson so that he could ask me these pointless questions? This is unbelievable…'

"I do not care much for gossip," she responded, making sure her indignation did not force its way into her tone of voice.

"I see your point. So I imagine it would come as quite a surprise to learn that your former home of Rabanastre has now come under the control of a consul itself."

Aralenne's breath caught in her throat immediately straightened in her chair, her interest in this conversation suddenly peaked.

_Now_ he had her attention.

"Really?" She asked quickly.

"Who?" She demanded urgently. "Who is it?"

'Please don't let it be some mud-witted senator…' She prayed inwardly.

He smiled pleasantly.

"You're looking at him."

Silence.

Aralenne blinked. Her mind suddenly went blank, completely devoid of thought. But somehow she dimly managed to resist the urge to stick a finger in her ear and make sure her auditory senses weren't fooling her at this crucial point in conversation.

"You?" She said at last, her voice hesitant and disbelieving.

'Why couldn't it have been a mud-witted senator?'

Vayne raised an eyebrow; clearly this was not the way he had expected her to react. How he could have expected a different response, she would never know.

"My lady, if you look any more shocked I may have to feel insulted."

Aralenne shook off the astonishment of the revelation.

"I apologize," she said at once, ashamed of her reaction. But she couldn't help it.

Vayne Solidor? Consul of Rabanastre?

Aralenne half wondered why he would bother concerning himself with the war torn kingdom. Was there hidden motive in his reason to accept such a position? Did he request to become Consul? Was there a hidden agenda in in all this?

'Stop it Aralenne,' she mentally chided herself. 'You are letting your mind take you away on a fabulous journey.'

"I just… I wasn't expecting to hear such news," she finished lamely. "Forgive me for reacting the way I did."

He waved a hand carelessly, disregarding her apology.

"There is nothing to forgive. I imagine it came as quite the shock; I do not blame you in this slightest."

She smiled weakly before nodding, not knowing what to say. She averted her gaze to her hands, twisting one of the rings on her left hand nervously.

"I will be departing for the capital as soon as the preparations are complete," he continued.

Her fingers stilled before she could twist the band around once more.

"I would like you to accompany me there."

Aralenne looked back up at him, her face lighting up with an emotion Vayne had never seen before.

Hope.

"Of course," she replied immediately, not even thinking twice about it. "I'm honored that you would think of me."

'You should not over-flatter his ego,' said a voice in the back of her mind. 'It is already over-inflated as it is.'

'Oh be quiet,' she told herself. 'It's not over-flattery as long as it works. And I wasn't aiming to flatter him either.'

"It's your home," he answered simply. "You know it better than I do. It would be foolish for you not to accompany me. But I must confess, there is another reason for bringing you along."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, wariness beginning to take hold.

"If the people refuse to accept me as Consul," he began carefully, "I may need your help in subduing them. If they see that you are alive and well, perhaps they may readily accept the situation for what it is. I do not want there to be an uprising."

Her bright expression instantly flattened.

"A tool," she stated bluntly. "So that is what you see me as. I would have thought that after two years, that would have changed."

Vayne closed his eyes and sighed gently, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. He looked at her once more, exhaling tiredly.

"Come here," he beckoned, waving her forward.

Aralenne furrowed her eyebrows slightly in confusion.

"Come here," he repeated, softening his tone as if to reassure her.

She obeyed this time. Standing up, she walked around the desk to stop in front of him, her expression full of inquiry. Then he did something she never expected.

Vayne took her hands in his, thinking his gesture comforting.

It wasn't.

She suppressed the urge to have her hands tense up in his grasp. Vayne… never touched her, to say the least. This would have been the first time, actually.

"I do not see you as a tool," he said sternly. "Erase that thought from your mind."

"But you just said-"

"Forget what I said," he answered, waving her comment aside. "You are misinterpreting the situation."

Aralenne fell silent. She averted her gaze, not wanting to start anything with this man. Not when she was so close to going home.

"Whether you have--"

He abruptly cut himself off, sighing exasperatedly. "For once, could you _please_ look at me in the eyes when I am speaking to you?"

Aralenne, whose eyes had been everywhere except on him, slowly forced her gaze back to him. It was everything she could do to keep from looking away, until she realized something.

'His eyes are like Larsa's,' she mused silently, her worry forgotten. 'I've never noticed that before.'

True, she never bothered to study his face much, but this was one detail she thought she wouldn't have missed.

'But still… they're different, somehow. They're…'

Colder.

"Whether you have realized it or not," he began again, "your presence in these past two years has meant quite a lot to this small family of men."

"And of course it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I resemble your dead mother," she stated, clearly not convinced.

Wrong thing to say.

Vayne's expression hardened slightly at her sarcastic mention of his mother, and Aralenne immediately backed off the subject, knowing all too well the thin ground she was treading on. And she couldn't place any blame on his behalf either; she knew she would have reacted the same way.

'Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth… I cannot believe I just said that…'

"The fact that you resemble her," he began, "is merely a coincidence, nothing more. You are nothing like my mother, and you would do well to remember it."

She bowed her head in shame and apology, having no words to say.

'He could have reacted so much worse,' she thought numbly, as Vayne reverted the subject and conversation back to Rabanastre. She pretended to give ear to his words, but in truth, her thoughts were still preoccupied with his words about his mother.

'I know it was just one mere comment, but still… I should consider myself thankful for what self-control he has. I remember the first time I heard someone speak ill of my mother…'

Aralenne pursed her lips, thinking back toward that day when her restraint was thrown away in a rage, in blind and furious attempt to make the speaker of those words suffer more than they had thought possible.

'It was a long time ago, Aralenne,' she told herself. 'You made your choice; all of it is past now.'

"…but I feel that after two years, it is time to bring you home, Lady Aralenne."

The statement brought her out of her reverie. She lifted her head to look at him.

"After I am inaugurated as Consul, you may either choose to stay with me in Rabanastre, or you can join Larsa in Bhujerba after the festivities are over. You have an uncle in Bhujerba, am I correct?"

'Bhujerba?'

"Yes, but… we are not blood related," she admitted.

"Well, all the same," he said indifferently. "I suppose you would like to see him again, no?"

"I would like that very much. But…"

"But what?" He prompted.

"Why so kind all of a sudden?" She whispered.

"Contrary to what you believe, I am not nearly as cruel as you think I am."

'So destroying entire kingdoms isn't cruel?' She thought disbelievingly. 'Ruining thousands of lives isn't cruel?'

Two years ago, Aralenne wouldn't have hesitated to say this straight to his face. But now, after two years enduring his prescence every day, she knew better. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud, Vayne would have renounced his offer on the spot, and she would have been left in Archades while he did Faram knows what in Rabanastre. Two years had taught her much in self-restraint, something she had little of back in Rabanastre.

"Well," he said at last, bringing the conversation to a close. "I'm sure you have other things to attend to. My brother must be wondering what is taking you so long."

She nodded, nearly sighing with relief when he released her hands, which he had been holding all this time. She took a step backward as he stood up.

"Start packing your things, my lady," Vayne told her, guiding her toward the door with a hand on the small of her back, which she decidedly ignored. There was no sense in thinking anything of it, not when she had more important things on her mind. "We leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She repeated, turning her head to look at him incredulously.

"How long would you like to wait?"

'Tomorrow… Why so soon? Why could he not have told me this earlier?'

Aralenne turned around when she reached the door, intending on speaking her mind, but fell short as she realized just how close Vayne stood in front of her.

A little too close for her liking. He stood less than a foot away from her, caging her against the door. As much as she would have liked to have told him to back off, she held back. She did not want to take the chance of displeasing him now, not when they were departing for Rabanastre _tomorrow_…

"It is best to get these things over with quickly," he explained, his voice rousing her from her nervous thoughts, seemingly mistaking her wariness for confusion. "There will be a… parade of sorts to announce my arrival. I will then give a speech to the people of Rabanastre, which hopefully, will be enough to convince them that I am not there to inflict any ill will upon Dalmasca."

'Now why on Ivalice would they think that?' She thought sardonically.

**-XII-**

_I force myself through another day  
Can't explain the way today  
Just fell apart like everything  
Right in my face_

**-XII-**

She was going back to Rabanastre.

'I wish Vayne would have told me about all this sooner,' Aralenne thought with slight irritation. 'One night isn't enough to pull my mind together.'

Home.

'Can I even call it home anymore?'

She looked up, spotting Gabranth conversing with Judge Zargabaath at the end of the hallway.

'Perfect.'

Zargabaath looked her way as she neared them, and he quickly put an end to the conversation and walked off, leaving Gabranth alone with the young woman.

Aralenne came to a stop in front of the youngest Judge Magister, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

'Someone is not happy,' he thought.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You knew, didn't you?"

" 'Know what?' might I ask."

"That Vayne was appointed Consul of Rabanastre?"

"I heard rumors amongst the army a few weeks," he admitted, "but I had yet to know if they were true or not. A few days ago it was confirmed."

"Then why did you not tell me?" She asked, her arms falling to her sides. The hurt in her voice was clearly evident.

"You would have found out anyway," he groused, ignoring her distress. She rolled her eyes, scoffing slightly as his defensive walls came up just as they always did whenever she pushed something too far. "I do not gossip about shamelessly like a woman." He crossed his arms. "I make sure my facts are just that--facts."

She shook her head at his indignation. Why did he allow himself to become so easily incensed? What would it possibly take to get this man to relax every once in awhile?

"And what do you think?"

She quirked an eyebrow at his sudden change in attitude. "About Vayne's appointment as Consul?"

"Precisely."

She pursed her lips, her face contorting into an expression that told him she was thinking deeply on the subject.

"There is nothing I can do about it," she said, shrugging after a brief pause, "so why worry?"

She walked around him, intending on going to the library, knowing fully well that she missed the rest of the piano lesson. Right now she just wanted to relax with a good book.

Gabranth wanted to smirk and yet sigh at the same time. Stupid girl. She inadvertently led herself into a mind trap, unwittingly betraying her true feelings to him.

"I don't recall asking if you were worried," he called back to her, crossing his arms.

Aralenne stopped in her tracks, realizing her mistake.

"But now I know that you are."

She closed her eyes, sighing softly.

**-XII-**_  
_

_And I try to be the one  
I can't accept this all  
Because of you  
I've had to walk away…  
From everything…_

**-XII-**

Drace and Larsa had not been in the library.

'I cannot believe I walked all that way… Why couldn't she have sent me a message?'

As Aralenne neared her room, she noticed that the doors were open.

'Hmm. My room was just cleaned the other day,' she thought, only a few steps away. 'So would could they…'

Her mouth fell open as she saw the scene that greeted her.

'What the-'

She looked around her room in confusion, wondering as to why on Ivalice half of the palace servants seemed to be in her room, rushing about like mad cockatrices with their heads severed off.

What made things even more baffling was that Drace stood in the middle of them, surveying the chaotic scene with a calm, collected demeanor.

Aralenne stepped into the room, careful to avoid being run over, yet still remaining completely mystified at what was going on.

"I thought I would help you get a head start on packing," the Magister said at last, upon seeing Aralenne's bewildered expression as she turned around.

"That's very… kind of you," she answered, not even bothering to ask Drace how she knew. She quickly sidestepped a servant who rushed past her, carrying an assortment of items in her arms.

"Well, you leave tomorrow," the older woman stated. "No sense in wasting time."

_Tomorrow…_

Aralenne let the thought consume her mind once more. Sitting down on her bed in a space that wasn't occupied by clothing or a trunk, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her face in her hands.

"It's quite a lot to take in, isn't it?" Drace's voice rang her of out her internal chaos.

She looked up at her, pausing a moment in hesitation before nodding.

"Are you sure you're ready for it?"

Aralenne pursed her lips before shaking her head.

"No."

**-XII-**_  
_

_And I'm afraid to be alone  
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone  
I'm afraid to come back home…_

**-XII-**

Aralenne shut the packed trunks littered the room, full to the brim of useless articles of clothing and accessories to match. She didn't understand why she had to bring her entire wardrobe. It wasn't as if she didn't have _three closets_ waiting for her back in Dalmasca… If the Imperials didn't completely raid the place when they took over anyway.

She leaned against the empty wardrobe, breathing a sigh of relief.

That relief turned out to be short-lived.

"You're really going back to Rabanastre then?" A young voice said from the doorway.

She swiftly turned around to see Larsa standing there, his arms crossed, and looking quite beside himself.

It hit her like a kick in the gut. 'I missed dinner…' She nearly cringed.

'He had to find out from Vayne…'

"Answer me," he said hotly, distracting her from her thoughts. "Are you going back to Dalmasca?"

Aralenne nodded slowly. "Yes, Larsa, I am."

"Why?" He demanded at once.

"I don't appreciate the interrogation Larsa," she replied calmly, closing the lid of the last trunk and snapping it shut. "Now come in and close the door before you make a scene."

The double doors were quickly kicked shut by the twelve-year old. Aralenne raised her eyebrows in surprise. He was more upset about this than she originally perceived.

"My brother said at dinner that you were going to Rabanastre with him."

"That's right," she said, shoving a trunk off her bed so she could sit down. It hit the floor with a loud 'thump'. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Don't go!" He burst out, making her draw back in surprise.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?"

"I just don't want you to!"

She shook her head, not understanding. "Larsa, I don't-"

"If you go back… If go…" Larsa looked at the ground, his hair falling in front of his eyes. His small hands clenched into fists as he tried to convey his feelings to her in the only way he knew how.

Aralenne closed her eyes before standing up and making her way over to the boy. What a fool she was. She knew where this was headed now.

"If you go back to Rabanastre," he continued, his trembling voice telling her that he was almost near tears now, "you're going to want to stay there, I just know it!"

She crouched down in front of him, laying her hands on his shoulders.

"I just know it," he sobbed, as his eyes began watering. She wrapped her arms around him. "You're going to leave me for a dead city, I know it…"

Larsa threw his arms tightly around her. It wasn't long before she felt hot tears drip into her shoulder.

"Never think that I could abandon you so lightly," she whispered.

"I would have thought that after two years," she said quietly, as her own began to fall down her cheeks, "you would have realized how much you mean to me."

Larsa said nothing. His hands clenched the fabric on the back of her dress tighter.

"I will not be in Rabanastre long," she continued, filling her voice with resolve. "I will meet with you in Bhujerba the day after the fete is over, I promise you. Until then, you can enjoy my Uncle's estate. Bhujerba is a wonderful place…"

She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to reassure him of all this.

"I think you will like it there."

**-XII-**

_Another sleepless night again  
Hotel room's my only friend  
And friends like that just don't add up  
To anything…_

**-XII-**

"_I trust you will be fine?"_

"_Of course. Don't feel ashamed about leaving me, Lenne."_

_"Please don't," she cried. "Don't leave me here. Don't make me fight alone."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Vossler!" _

"_Never think that I could abandon you so lightly."_

Aralenne jolted up in bed, a frightened cry spilling forth into the room.

She put her head in her hands, gripping her hair tightly, hoping the physical pain would overtake the mental.

She had escaped the nightmare in her dreams.

But soon enough, a new one would take its place in life.

**-XII-**

_And I try so hard to be everything  
That I should never take away from you again  
'Cause I heard ya say_

**-XII-**

She opened the door to the piano room, throwing open the curtains so that moonlight leaked in threw the windows.

Why she had decided to go there, she didn't know. Maybe because the piano was always her way of escaping. It reminded her of so much. Her mother. Her family. Her home.

Her previous life.

Sitting down at the bench, she let her fingers glide over the keys, and the music take her away.

**-XII-**

_And I'm afraid to be alone  
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone  
I'm afraid to come back home…_

**-XII-**

Gabranth stood in the doorway, spellbound.

He had been in charge of the guard that night. Only a few hallways away, he had heard the soft melody, and proceeded to follow it until he found the source.

And he found the source.

Aralenne sat at the bench. The moonlight silhouetted her in a way that seemed almost heavenly. He continued to stand and stare, watching her play until finally her hands fell back to her sides.

"That was beautiful," he said at last, breaking the silence.

Aralenne's eyes widened as she let out a gasp. She spun around quickly, looking up at the armored figure before her.

"Gabranth!"

He smirked inside his helmet.

"What are you doing up this late?" She asked timidly,

"I could ask the same of you," he replied swiftly. "Getting up in the middle of the night just to play the piano. You're lucky no one else was around to hear you."

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted sheepishly, thankful that the darkness prevented her embarrassed blush from being seen by him.

"I can see that," he observed. "Judging from the hour at which you suddenly chose to play the piano…"

"Is it really that late?"

Gabranth turned his head toward the open window.

"Judging from the night sky, I would say is it a little after midnight."

"Oh."

Silence soon stretched itself between them. Aralenne put her hands in her lap, looking at them as if they were the most interesting thing in Ivalice.

"What has you so ill at ease?" He asked suddenly.

Aralenne looked up upon hearing the question.

"Besides the fact that Vayne is now Consul of Rabanastre," he added, as she opened her mouth to speak.

"You are apprehensive about going back to Dalmasca, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"You think Dalmasca will not be the same."

"I'm not afraid that Dalmasca won't be the same. I already know that it is not; to think otherwise would be ignorant."

"Then what is wrong?"

"I just… I'm not the same person… that I used to be. What if the people hate me? Vayne wants to announce my prescence; what if the people of Rabanastre see me as a traitor?"

It was a good thing he had his helmet on; she wouldn't be able to see the appalled look that had crossed his features.

"I could not live with myself if they hated me," she whispered.

"How can they be so important to you?" Gabranth asked dubiously. "It's not as if they were family."

"That's where you're wrong," she responded. "Just because Archadia feels nothing for her citizens doesn't mean that Dalmasca does _not_!"

Gabranth was taken aback. Not only at her words, but the feelings laced within them. He hadn't seen this much emotion from her in quite awhile. She was usually calm and reserved, at least when it came to him.

Aralenne bowed her head. "I apologize. It's just… I once had the love of the people. I spent much time among them, even knew many of them by name." The ghost of a smile came to her lips, "I took an interest in their lives, their businesses. In addition to overseeing the military, I made it my priority to know as much about the people as I could; without them, there would have been no Dalmasca."

Gabranth listened to her reminisce thoughtfully. She rarely talked of her previous life in Dalmasca; if she did, it was never when he was around. If he were curious enough to ask Larsa, he might have been able to obtain a clearer picture of her former life, but judging from the way she was reliving the past, it seemed her life wasn't quite what he had thought it out to be.

But this business with Rabanastre… He didn't like it. At least not where she was concerned. He hadn't realized that extent of her pain up until now.

'Hmm.'

But at least he was going. It would give him and excuse to keep a more watchful eye on her.

It would also give him an excuse to pay his dear brother a visit.

**-XII-**

_I cannot forget  
I live with regret  
I cannot forget  
I live with…_

_I'll live through this  
I can't see through this  
I can't do this anymore…_

**-XII-**

Aralenne had woken up earlier than usual that morning. She took a stroll through the gardens while the sun had been rising, joined the Solidor family for their usual breakfast, and then proceeded to give Larsa his piano lesson for the day before heading to the library to work on his studies.

It was late in the afternoon when they finally sent for her. All she had to do was walk with the servant to the private aerodrome, where the Emperor Gramis, Vayne, and Larsa waited for her.

The twelve-year old held out a cloak for her as she came to a stop in front of him.

"I'll see you in Bhujerba," she told him, taking the garment and kissing his forehead. "You be good."

"Of course," he said, smiling up at her.

"And try not to give Judge Ghis too much trouble," she said wryly, slipping the cloak around her shoulders. "You know how irate he gets when you behave inappropriately. And I won't be there to take the fall for your antics."

Larsa's shoulders sagged slightly, but his face soon brightened with a grin as he secretly thought of what mischief he might possibly accomplish while in the Skycity of Bhujerba when Aralenne was not around.

"Oh and when you get there," she added, "tell my Uncle I said hello. I'm sure he is quite anxious to hear how I've been doing all this time."

"I will!"

'At least I hope he is,' she thought sourly, careful to make sure the emotion did not show itself on her face. 'In the past two years, not once has he answered any of my letters…'

Vayne, who had been standing by silently for the most part, stepped up beside them, laying a hand on Larsa's shoulder and directing his attention at Aralenne.

"I say we ought to be leaving now," he told her, nodding his head toward the airship as a member of the crew motioned for them to board as their final preparations were completed. Vayne lifted his left arm, offering it to her politely.

Knowing she could not refuse this gesture, especially in front of Gramis and Larsa, she slipped her arm through his, giving a small, but seemingly genuine, smile.

As much as Vayne might cause her discomfort at times, she could find no justification at the moment to be ill at ease. He was taking her back home.

So, as long as that moment lasted, she would be grateful.

Aralenne turned her head back toward Larsa as another thought suddenly struck her. "And try not to be too much of a bother to my Uncle, don't forget; he's _old_!" She called back to him, as she walked with Vayne toward the airship's boarding ramp.

"I'll tell him you said that!"

Aralenne shook her head and gave the boy a final wave before ducking inside the airship's engines came to life. She took her place by one of the windows, watching Larsa and the Emperor disappear as they flew out of the aerodrome.

As the city of Archades gradually began to grow smaller and farther away, she turned her head away from the place that had been her home for the past two years.

It would be months before she came back.

**-XII-**

Aralenne's grateful mood did not last long. Worry had caught up with her once again, and after nearly three hours of miserable and failed attempts at trying to keep herself occupied, she had had enough. She stood up from her corner of the airship, making her way toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Gabranth inquired from across the room. Ever since the airship had taken off he had been standing against the opposite wall, arms crossed, frowning occassionally at her meager efforts to distract herself from the obvious.

"Out on the deck," she answered impatiently, not even turning her head to look at him. "I cannot just sit here."

She did not wait to hear his reply. The stewardess quickly opened the door as Aralenne swept toward it, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her.

The fresh air didn't do much to calm her nerves. She paced around the outside deck agitatedly, her hair blowing around her face wildly as the airship cruised through the sky gently. She at last resumed a spot in the center of the deck, gripping the railing tightly and letting the wind caress her face.

She wasn't just standing there.

She was waiting.

Waiting for the sun to set. For her troubled thoughts to evaporate. For her weariness to take over and allow her to rest.

Waiting for that moment when the city of Rabanastre would appear upon the horizon.

**-XII-**

_Cause I'm afraid to be alone  
Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone  
I'm afraid to come back home…_

_Afraid you'll leave me when I'm gone  
I just wish I was back home…_

**-XII-**

**NOTE: **All you Gabranth nuts better thank reviewer _**Arctic Sapphire**_. The Gabranth/Aralenne/piano scene deal was her idea. She pestered me into it. :]

I hope Vayne didn't come across as overly nice in this chapter. After a few years, the intimidation factor isn't really there for Aralenne anymore. He still manages to make her feel uncomfortable at times, as you could probably tell.

Heh heh, I gave Aralenne one of my bad habits. (evil smile) Who here has a problem making eye contact sometimes? I can do it when I have to, but staring straight into someone's eyes for brief periods of time can make me a tad uncomfortable sometimes. I'll look at something, then I'll look back at them, then I'll look at something else, then look back at them… it just goes on and on. And it got worse whenever I had to stand up and do speeches in front of class...

Coming up with a chapter name for this chapter was like trying to nail jello to a tree. Nothing really 'worked'. And then I realized how much the words 'two years' kept popping up throughout the whole chapter, and lo and behold, I found my chapter name.

Oh, one more thing. During Aralenne's conversation with Vayne when she's thinking back to the time when someone spoke ill of her mother… That is IMPORTANT. Remember that everyone.


	11. IX: Where the Heart Is

I originally wanted to get this up on Christmas Day, but because I kept myself up late during the few days before that on caffiene induced highs trying to get this chapter done (I've noticed that my most creative writing times are between the hours of 11pm and 6am) only to wake up a few hours later after I finally crashed due to Christmas preparations… well, it wasn't exactly the wisest thing to do. And I'm not known for my wisdom either! ;) But I've always had trouble sleeping anyway, and the fact that I've been feeling pretty anxious lately hasn't helped.

As always, a big thanks to my wonderful reviewers for their awesome reviews on the last chapter! That was a nice (and early!) Christmas gift that I thoroughly enjoyed. Make sure you all stick around after the chapter, I've got an important announcement to tell you all.

No real music suggestions for this chapter, though I did listen to Andrew Lloyd Webber's infamous 'Overture' from The Phantom of the Opera quite a lot. It kept me inspired. Youtube it sometime, it's a pretty cool song, and like the scene where you hear it in the movie and the musical, it reminds me of the dark and broken present being stripped away to reveal a once glorious past. But enough about that…

I think I may have made Vayne a little OOC in this chapter… Honestly, I think the best writing here is in the flashbacks, which I wrote quite awhile ago. I think the rest of the chapter is kinda so-so… Some parts of it feel rushed to me. Others just… _suck_, to put it bluntly. I didn't ahve enough time to make this chapter how I wanted it to be, and I've just had a lot of things on my mind lately, so please forgive me if this chapter isn't on par with the others. Some parts of it are kinda bittersweet though.

**-XII-**

Chapter 9 Where the Heart Is

**-XII-**

_I've got my memories…  
Always inside of me  
But I can't go back,  
Back to how it was…_

**-XII-**

Aralenne sighed softly, leaning her head against the side of the window and closing her eyes.

Up since the break of dawn, Aralenne had busied herself with trivial things to pass the time. When her restlessness became evident to everyone else in the cabin –meaning, when Gabranth had grown irritated at her constant moving around from spot to spot in the lounge and let her know it– she retreated to her room, hoping that maybe the solitude would help her find some piece of mind.

It was there in that empty room that she bided her time; but the book of poetry she brought along from the library in Archades failed to capture her attention well enough, so she resigned herself to something normally reserved for humes only a third of her age.

She watched the clouds.

It passed the time by rather fast, she could shamelessly admit. And if you kept your eyes on the skies long enough, it almost felt like you yourself were floating through the heavens, completely unhindered and free of any mortal limitations.

"My Lady." A curt, familiar voice interrupted her silence.

In a single instant, all the serene feelings of floating and freedom evaporated.

"Yes, Gabranth?" She asked, remaining, for once, unmoving. Her eyes never opened, and her arms remained in the crossed position that they had been in long before he had arrived. "What is it?"

Gabranth paused for moment, pondering what effects his next words could have. She seeemed so troubled the other night, when he caught her up in the middle of the night. And her feelings of anxiousness didn't seem to fade away once aboard the airship either.

"We are coming upon Rabanastre."

Her eyes snapped open. Gabranth could have sworn he heard her inhale slightly.

"I just thought that you should know."

Aralenne slowly turned away from the window. There was no way to decipher the blank expression that had plastered itself on her face. Disbelief dawned across her features, and then…

Gabranth raised a quizzical eyebrow beneath his helmet at what she did next.

She smiled.

It was the brightest, most genuine smile he had ever seen grace her features. The only time one would have been able to catch a similar expression would have been if Aralenne were in the presence of Lord Larsa.

Amidst his conflicted thoughts, he was barely able to avoid stepping out of the way in time as Aralenne darted through the doorway into the hall and out into the cabin lounge.

Gabranth furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he stared after her.

Whatever reaction he had expected, _that_ certainly was not it.

**-XII-**

_I believe now,  
I've come too far…  
No I can't go back,_  
_Back to how it was…  
Created for a place,  
I've never known…_

**-XII-**

Aralenne tightened her grip on the railing, scarcely believing the sight appearing before her.

There it was.

Rabanastre.

Outwardly, it looked quite the same. The cathedral, the palace, even the central plaza, with its three gates that led to the Estersand, the Westersand, and the Giza Plains still remained; she could spot them with ease. Everything looked as it had always been.

But Aralenne knew she could not say the same for what lie inside those city walls.

"A magnificent sight."

She craned her head around just in time to see Vayne sauntering leisurely out of the cabin, his long, dark hair blowing in the breeze.

"It is… magnificent," she agreed, reverence seeping into her gentle tone. She released her grip on the railing, opting to prop her elbows up on it and lean against it casually. "I hope you are not laboring under the popular delusion that Dalmasca is nothing more than an enormous sand pit." The statement held a slightly playful tone about it, but Vayne could hear the underlying sentiment in her words.

He chuckled. "I assure you, I am not." He the proceeded to mimick the same stance she had taken, leaning against the railing impassively. Aralenne did not concern herself too much with this seemingly harmless action, but took note of it nonetheless; it wasn't often you saw Vayne Solidor carry himself with anything other than military bearing.

A calm silence passed between them. There was no tension, no apprehension on Aralenne's part to speak of. This was the first time she had felt completely at ease with this man. And a part of her couldn't help but wonder when that had changed.

"So you are happy to return home at last?" He asked, breaking the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yes, I am," she replied earnestly. "Words cannot express my delight at being able to return to Rabanastre after all these years."

Vayne nodded his head thoughtfully. "Good. I am glad to hear it."

"I must admit though, I am curious about something," she began hesitantly, keeping her eyes on the sky in front of her.

"Well, all you have to do is ask," he replied, now genuinely curious as to what she wanted to know, "and I will answer it to the best of my abilities."

'Here goes,' she thought, nervousness worming its way into the forefront of her mind.

She stood up straight and turned to him, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

"You're not… planning to announce my presence to the people, are you?"

Vayne straightened his posture as she finished her question. He was surprised at this inquiry, but pleasantly so.

"It was never my plan," he responded cautiously, "but if you would like me to, then I see no reason why not…"

"I…" She trailed off, pausing uncertainly. She pursed her lips, pondering what her next words should be. "I am not so sure that would be best…"

"Why not?" He asked, the disbelief evident in his voice. The puzzlement was clearly written on his face. "I should think that the people of Dalmasca would be elated to know that you are alive and well."

"Yes," she replied shortly, "I am sure they would be elated to know that I have been living comfortably in the Empire for the past two years while they have suffered."

Realization dawned on Vayne's face as he understood her reasoning.

"Ah…"

"Do what you must," Aralenne said, trying to sound indifferent about it, and failing, "but if revealing my prescence here is unecessary, then I ask of you… please, don't do it."

Vayne nodded, frowning slightly. But she could see right away that something about her innocent request was now beginning to irk him.

"I will respect your wishes, but I feel I must voice my opinion on this issue. Eventually word will reach the people of Dalmasca that a member of their royal family is alive and well. If they were to find out now or later, I doubt there would be much of a difference in their reactions. You would put off the inevitable just so you could give yourself more time to hide?"

"For the time being," she answered stiffly, not pleased that Vayne kept pushing the subject. "Yes, I would."

Vayne shook his head. "That is something I do not understand. You would rather deal with something later rather than sooner? What kind of logic is that?"

Aralenne lifted her head, eyes narrowing, defiance and shame coursing through her at the same time. Why on Ivalice did he pick now of all times to bring her faults to attention?

"It is the logic of someone who has power," she stated unemotionally.

"And lacks the resolve to use it."

**-XII-**

_This is home  
Now I'm finally  
Where I belong,  
Where I belong  
Yeah, this is home_

**-XII-**

Once the airship had landed safely in the aerodrome, there had been little time to lose. Vayne was quickly ushered away to make ready for whatever grand entrance he had prepared for this parade. Gabranth opted out of the ceremony, saying that he needed to check the various detachments of Imperials dispatched throughout the city before heading to the palace to secure it for tonight's fete.

After her exchange with Vayne aboard the airship, Aralenne felt very inclined to accompany the Judge Magister. Initially, she had been grateful to the Emperor's oldest son for allowing her to come with him to Dalmasca. Now, she wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence and in her own company.

'Gabranth probably would have refused to let me go with him anyway. He never misses an opportunity to let me suffer, the sadist.'

But no part of her could deny that she felt incredibly curious as to what kind of speech Vayne would give to the people of Rabanastre.

'Probably something filled with lies, no doubt,' she thought, nearly snorting with contempt. But it was that curiosity that pacified her indignant mind and allowed her to be patient.

The speech was to take place in front of the cathedral. A large crowd had already begun to assemble there by the time the airship had landed, or so she had been told, so Aralenne was taken through the backstreets on a separate float. She now stood on the left side of the podium, surrounded by soldiers, a few judges, and nearly all the citizens of Rabanastre.

The murmurs and whispers of the crowd did not go unnoticed by Aralenne when she had stepped off the float earlier. No doubt they thought she was someone important, given how she was dressed, but as her arrival was not announced, and her name had not been spoken, they quickly disregarded her presence soon after.

Arms already crossed, Aralenne subtly lifted a hand, dipping a finger beneath the gold chain she wore around her neck. Tugging on it gently, she pulled it out from beneath the neckline of her dress.

A gold signet ring flashed in the midday sun. It bore the emblem of Dalmasca, with the letter 'B' etched in silver in the middle of it.

'Oh Basch…' She lamented silently. 'If you and my family could see the Archadian that I have become…'

She continued fingering the ring a few moments more, before quickly putting it away as Vayne's parade float arrived. The man himself soon took his place on the right side of the podium, standing directly opposite to her.

"We will have order!" The Judge proclaimed, trying to silence to jibbering crowd.

"I give you your new consul: His Imperial Highness, Lord Vayne Solidor, Commandant of the Archadian Empire's Western Ar-"

The judge abruptly cut himself off.

"Your Excellency!" The judge exclaimed.

Aralenne frowned slightly as Vayne strode away from the podium, toward the crowd.

'What in the world is he doing?' She wondered, not knowing what to make of his suddenly odd behavior.

Ignoring the titters of the citizens, Vayne stepped up onto the float that had transported him through the city.

"People of Rabanastre!" He declared, raising his arms "Is it with hatred you look upon your consul? With hatred, you look upon the Empire?"

"Spit on your Empire!" The crowd jeered.

"Go back to Archadia!"

Aralenne closed her eyes, inhaling as calmly as the situation would allow.

'It starts…'

"There was little point in asking," he said lamely. "But know this: I harbor no idle hopes of frustrating that hatred. Nor shall I ask your fealty. That is the due of your fallen king, and rightly so. King Raminas loved his people, Strove to bring you peace. His was a rule worthy of your devotion. Even now, he remains among you, protecting you. His ardor for the peace and weal of Dalmasca falters not. I would ask only that you do your king honor. Together, let us embrace the peace His Majesty would surely desire. Two years now divide us from war's bitter end. Yet still its shadow looms over all, stifling the infant peace, a pall only you may cast off! Achieve but this one thing, and your hatred of me, and of the Empire, will grieve me not!"

It did not take Dr. Cid to see that the crowd was clearly impressed by this statement.

"I will stand fast," he continued passionately, "I will endure your hatred, suffer your slings and arrows; I will defend Dalmasca!

Aralenne felt her breath catch in her throat.

'He didn't…' She thought bewilderedly. 'Is he..? Did he really _mean_ all of that? This was _not_ the type of speech I was expecting… It's unbelieveable; he almost sounds…'

"Here I will pay my debt, I swear it now!"

'Sincere…'

Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in dismay.

"What I ask, I ask hopes, now rest with you."

Vayne lifted a hand to his heart, bowing his head to the crowd.

It was not long before the cheers and the applause started.

Vayne was all smirks and smiles as he stepped down from the parade float, obviously pleased with himself.

Aralenne stepped forward to say something, but was quickly interrupted by a judge, who then introduced Vayne to the bangaa merchant, Migelo, who was hosting tonight's fete.

Aralenne stood by quietly while Vayne conversed with the merchant. While she did not know the merchant extremely, she was familiar with his business and had talked with him many times before when she had visited his shop. Throughout the whole conversation though, she never once noticed that his eyes kept flickering in her direction.

By the time Vayne and Migelo finished speaking, Aralenne was boredly twisting the band on her ring finger, ready to be away from this place.

The bangaa was about to walk away from them, but hesitantly turned around, as if he had forgotten something he wanted to say.

"It is good to see you, excellency."

Vayne frowned at the odd statement, but quickly dismissed it when he realized something.

"I thought I asked you not to call me-"

"Begging your humblest of pardons Sire," Migelo began, bowing his head in respect, "but I wasn't actually speaking you."

His lifted his head, looking in Aralenne's direction as her eyes widened in disbelief.

**-XII-**

Penelo frowned when she saw Migelo bowing to the dark-haired woman who stood beside Vayne. She looked very familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on who it was. She would have to ask Migelo later when she had the chance.

"I wish I could hear what they were saying," she said, straining to hear the conversation over the noise of the crowd, which had begun to pile out of the square.

"Who cares," Vaan replied disinterestedly, eager to get leave also. He wanted to go see Old Dalan to figure out a way to get into the fete that night. "Let's go already."

**-XII-**

_Belief over misery,  
I've seen the enemy  
And I won't go back…_

_Back to how it was..._

**-XII-**

The terraced steps leading up to the entrance of the palace loomed before her like a giant tidal wave, waiting to come crashing down. She stared at them unblinkingly, almost afraid they might have disappeared if she closed her eyes.

Two years she had longed to walk these steps again.

But now that she was finally there, she did not think she wanted to.

A few of the soldiers began to mutter amongst themselves when they saw that she had no intention of moving anytime soon.

"Quiet," Vayne ordered them, "Give her a moment."

Aralenne stepped forward. Vayne raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

How hard it seemed to merely put one foot in front of the other. So hard, and yet so easy at the same time.

As Aralenne ascended the vast steps to the palace, she let her mind drift back, remembering the memories that they contained.

She remembered playfighting with Ashe in front of the palace when they were younger, shrieking widly as they ran up and down those steps, swinging their wooden swords around madly as they tried to attack one another. They kept up the routine for almost an hour, their seemingly unlimitless supply of energy bewildering the soldiers who had watched over them, unable to comprehend how they could keep it up for so long.

And she remembered falling and skinning her knees on those same steps when Ashe darted out from behind one of the statues, catching her from behind in a surprise attack. The wooden sword had come down on the back of Aralenne's knees in a furious whack, Ashe letting out a yell of triumph as her cousin fell to her 'blade', tumbling down a flight of steps before unceremoniously landing in on her rear end where the stones flattened out.

Vossler York Azelas nearly a heart attack when he heard Aralenne crying uncontrollably soon after that.

She remembered standing at the top of those steps, feeling conflicted and confused as she watched a golden-haired soldier go off to war.

Aralenne stopped when the steps spread out into flattened stone beneath her feet.

But the one memory that seemed as if it came out of yesterday was the outpouring of grief that had occurred at this very spot two years ago.

She remembered it as if it took place yesterday. Aralenne recounted what happened when Ashe caught sight of the dead body in the arms of Basch fon Ronsenburg.

_She screamed._

_And Aralenne had closed her eyes, wishing desperately that she could shut it out of her ears, wishing desperately that she could have been anywhere but there. For her, the tears didn't come yet; the pain was still too numb, too fresh for her to take in. But it was there nonetheless._

_Her new cousin, the man she had come to care for as a brother… was gone._

_She turned to around just in time to watch Basch disappear through the throng of servants. She looked hopelessly at her distraught cousin, holding out her arms. Ashe bolted into her embrace, wrapping her arms around her, and Aralenne returned the gesture. She held her cousin when her legs gave out beneath her, lowering them both to the ground gently. _

_Ashe held onto her tightly, never once letting her grip slacken. Aralenne felt her cousin's short nails dug into her back, and though it pained her, she never once let go. _

_It seemed like nothing mattered at the time. It didn't matter her that her cousin's cries were enough to give her a headache, or that her fingernails were about to draw blood. It didn't matter that this display of emotion was happening in a place where everyone could see. The rule against showing such weakness in front of their subjects no longer applied anymore._

_She almost felt like she could never be happy again, not with Ashe so heartbroken. Her cousin's wails of despair cut into the fiber of her very being, worming its way into her soul, chasing her, accusing her, making her feel utterly miserable._

_Making her feel as if Ashe's pain… was her own._

_What Aralenne didn't know at the time, was that one day, it would be._

**-XII-**

Aralenne turned her head away from the spot, looking forward with determination.

When the guards spotted her striding toward them, they quickly bowed their heads before extending an arm, pushing the doors open for her.

Aralenne walked through them, nodding her thanks.

Rows of servants greeted her line of sight when she walked through the door, already getting ready to make their bows. But when a few of them happened to look up and gasp, it set off a chain reaction. Everyone in the vicinity was now looking at their new arrival.

The servants had been expecting Vayne Solidor to walk through the doors.

But when they realized who it was that stood in the doorway before them before them, silhouetted by the sun like a heavenly figure sent by the gods, they didn't know what to think.

Aralenne raised an eyebrow, feigning a wounded expression.

"Well, if I had known you wouldn't be happy to see me," she said in a hurt tone, "I would have-"

She didn't have time to finish. One by one, the servants dropped to their knees, bowing their heads as someone they once thought was dead suddenly reappeared back into their lives.

"Lady Aralenne!"

"Thank the gods you live!"

"We thought you were dead!"

"Where have you been all this time?"

"Are you the new Consul?" A young servant asked dumbly, who was promptly smacked in the head by an older woman.

"Please, please!" Aralenne exclaimed in protest, holding up her hands to silence them. She couldn't help the smile that was forming on her face at their enthusiastic questions. "I will explain it all, in due time. But right now I must ask you all a grave favor."

"Anything!" They clamored excitedly.

"Please bring me a bottle of the finest Bhujerban Madhu. I've been missing it."

**-XII-**

_This is home  
Now I'm finally  
Where I belong,  
Where I belong  
Yeah, this is home_

**-XII-**

_How long had they stayed there, upon those steps?_

_Aralenne ran her fingers through her cousin's flaxen hair, looking out across the city of Rabanastre. What was left of the army had long since scattered, leaving an empty atmosphere to hang over them like dark clouds._

_Aralenne had stayed with her cousin until her cries turned into sobs, and her sobs turned into quiet whimpers, and the quiet whimpers faded into silence. In the back of her mind, Aralenne couldn't help but wonder how many more women in Rabanastre were mourning the loss of their men._

_Aralenne placed her chin upon her cousin's head, closing her eyes as the mourning bell began to toll from the cathedral._

_How many men had died in the days past? How many women would never see their see their husbands, their lovers, anymore? How many children would never once embrace their fathers again?_

_After a few more minutes, and making certain that Ashe was asleep, Aralenne shifted her legs, slowly rising up off the ground. She kept a secure arm around her cousin's waist before moving the other underneath her knees, lifting her cousin into her arms._

**-XII-**

_And I got my heart  
Set on  
What happens next  
I got my eyes wide  
It's not over yet  
We are miracles  
And we're not alone_

**-XII-**

"I know you've all suffered in the past two years," Aralenne said, sipping her Madhu as serious expression crossed her face. "I cannot even begin to imagine the pain all of you must have gone through."

The servants, who were all crowded into the kitchens, listened intently. A few of them hung their heads at the mention of the events two years past.

"I do not believe Vayne intends Dalmasca any harm," she continued, "I believe his intentions to help our kingdom are genuine, which I know may be hard to accept. But as long as I am here, Dalmasca will start being a kingdom, and not a territory of the Empire."

They were in the kitchens for quite awhile; it was the only place to gather all the servants without being overheard by Imperial guards. They asked her countless questions about her life for the past few years. Aralenne was happy to answer them all, but that happiness was shortlived as the inquiries started becoming more serious, until-

"Will you take up the throne one day?" Someone asked.

The question took Aralenne by surprise, and apparently the whole room too, because everyone immediately became quiet. They watched her with timid expressions before she hesitantly replied.

"I am afraid that would not be possible," she replied sadly. "I was not named as one of the King's heirs, and so-"

"But my lady!" One of them, an old man, protested, "you know that is not true! King Raminas thought of you as his own child!

Immediately the commotion started. Everyone began speaking at once.

"For two years we've been mistreated by Archadia-"

"You could put a stop to all of it-"

"Please, you _must_ reconsider-"

"Put an end to the suffering-"

"I am sure King would rather have _you_ on the throne of Dalmasca than have some Archadian warmongerer who-"

Aralenne looked around in shock, wondering how this discussion suddenly became so out of control. After another minute of this, she couldn't take it anymore.

"_Enough!_" She shouted, slamming a fist down violently on the table next to her. The wood shuddered, and the wineglass fell off, shattering into a thousand pieces, dark red wine splashing the floor like spilled blood.

The room went dead silent. Many of the servants looked suddenly fearful; and a fair number stared at the floor guiltily, ashamed of the way they had suddenly bombarded her with questions.

"Stop talking like this!" She continued, her voice beginning to crack. When she felt her eyes begin to water, she knew she had to get out there.

"Dalmasca's royal bloodline died two years ago! You would do well to remember it!"

She quickly began to make her exit, jerking the door open, making it rattle on its hinges.

"The Dalmasca we knew two years ago is dead! Never speak of this to me again!"

She slammed the door behind her, the noise echoing off the walls.

**-XII-**

Aralenne sped through the halls of the palace as quickly as she could. She desperately wanted to get out of this palace as fast as she could; she felt sick to her stomach after the discussion that just occurred in the kitchens.

'That did not go as I had hoped,' she thought, beginning her ascent up a set of stairs. 'Just how bad are things in Rabanastre? The people are so desperate for taste of normalcy that they want _me_ to take up the throne. As if the Empire would let me…'

Aralenne began to slow her pace as she reached the top of the stairwell.

'But then again, the Emperor Gramis did make the offer when I was first brought to Archades… Maybe it still stands…'

'No, this thinking is foolish,' she thought to herself. 'I could never take up the throne of Dalmasca, it is not my place. And I just… I don't have enough strength for it. I lack power… and resolve.'

"Lady Aralenne."

Aralenne sighed loudly, turning around grudgingly. An armored figure stood a fair distance away, the sun shining through the windows highlighting their armor enough to make her squint.

"Whatever it is Gabranth," she said irritably, "I am not in the mood."

"Where are you going?" He inquired, choosing to ignore her statement. "And with such an unhappy demeanor at that?"

"I'm going for a walk," she stated firmly.

"What do you mean, a _walk_? You are walking now."

"I mean, I am _going for a walk_," she snapped irritably, turning down the hallway where her room was. "I'm getting out this palace for a few hours, until the fete starts at the very _least_!"

"You can't do that," Gabranth said condescendingly, his facial expression hardening underneath his helmet. "There is no way Lord Vayne would let you out with an-"

"_Lord_ _Vayne_," she gritted out, "can deal with it! I haven't even been inside this palace for hour, and already I feel _sick_!"

Just that single statement was enough to render the Judge Magister speechless.

"So now," she began, taking advantage of the silence, "let us try this _again_."

She clapped her hands together matter-of-factly.

"I am going for a walk," she said slowly, so as to make sure he would hear every word. "_No_, I do _not_ need you to accompany me. I'm a grown woman, and I do not need a nanny. Do you understand what I am telling you, Judge Gabranth?"

Gabranth glowered at her through his helmet, wishing for once that he didn't have to wear this accursed helmet; then she could see just how angry he really was. Then she could decide if she really wanted to defy him like this.

"Good," she stated flatly. "Then we have an accord. Now excuse me for awhile I go and change my clothing."

**-XII-**

Outside, Gabranth was fuming.

'What's gotten into _her_? Does she think that just because she's back in Rabanastre she can openly defy orders?'

'Think of how she must be feeling right now,' came a voice from the back of his mind. 'Brought back to her wartorn home without having much time to think on the matter must have been hard. Think of what she must be feeling, especially right now…'

Aralenne's change in behavior was noticeable right before they had landed the airship. She looked anxious, tense, and if he put his finger on it correctly, defensive. Normally, he would have expected this anyway, given the fact that she was nearly home, but the fact that she had just in from the deck after a conversation with Vayne Solidor convinced him otherwise.

He had been very close to asking her, very subtly, if she wanted to skip Vayne's speech and come with him while he made rounds throughout the city. But he stopped that train of thought before it started. Vayne surely would not have been overjoyed had she decided to skip his speech.

The door suddenly swung open without warning, unceremoniously banging against the wall, effectively lifting Gabranth from his turbulent thoughts.

Unlike the way she had opened it, Aralenne closed the door quite softly. Then she turned around to face him.

Not for the first and surely not the final time, Gabranth was grateful for his helmet. She wouldn't be able to see his jaw drop in disbelief.

"You're going to walk around dressed like _that_?" Was all he could manage. He hadn't meant it to sound degrading, but it came out seeming that way nonetheless.

"There is nothing wrong with what I am wearing," she replied stubbornly, crossing her arms, a muscle twitching in her jaw.

"I beg to differ."

It was interesting to see how much a change in wardrobe could modify a person. This was the first time he had seen her in something other than a dress, other than when he had first met her, when she was wearing armor. But the difference in her now was astonishing. She had gone into her room looking like Archadian royalty and had come out… looking much like an ordinary Dalmascan citizen, with heavy emphasis on the 'ordinary'.

Overall, Aralenne's outfit was relatively simple, consisting of a sleeveless shirt, knee-length shorts, a skirt belted around her hips, and a pair of laced up calf-length boots. A simple outfit to him, that was the problem. If the fabrics and embroidery didn't have the telltale signs of being custom made, he would've thought her a peasant.

A very _beautiful_-

"I'm dreadfully sorry Judge Gabranth," her caustic tone "would you like me to go put on a ballgown instead?"

"You look like a commoner," he grumbled, voicing his earlier thoughts aloud.

"Yes, well, I know this may be a hard concept for you to grasp, but there was a time when I rarely dressed like a royal. When I went out into the city, which was every day, it was rarely in a dress."

She brushed past him, not even bothering with a goodbye, or a hint as to where she was even going.

"When will you be back?"

"Don't you worry about that." She waved him off carelessly.

"Lady Aralenne!"

She spun around, alarmed and astonished at the way he had addressed her.

"I asked you a _question_," he gritted out, taking in her wide eyes. "And I expect an _answer_."

"When will you be back?" He repeated dangerously.

"I'll be back before the fete," she said, an air of finality in her tone as she resumed a calm expression. "Now stop badgering me with these pointless questions."

"As you wish," he replied coldly, watching her stride away from him with a detached expression. So _this_ was what his concern warranted?

"If I didn't know any better, _Gabranth_," she declared, loudly enough for her voice to carry as she neared the end of the corridor, "I'd say you were worried about me."

She quickly rounded the corner and was out of sight.

Gabranth clenched one of his gloved hands into a fist.

"And if I did not know any better," he whispered, angry with himself for feeling this way, "I would say that you were right."

**-XII-**

_And now after all  
My searching  
After all my questions  
I'm gonna call it home  
I got a brand new mindset  
I can finally see  
The sunset  
I'm gonna call it home_

**-XII-**

_Aralenne slipped into the small room, closing the door behind her quietly and sliding in the deadbolt. Turning and around surveying the room, she was greatly relieved to find it empty._

_Empty, that is, except for the body that lay upon the table._

_A part of her wondered if what she was doing was in fact the right thing **to** do. But this wasn't for herself, this was for Ashe. Her cousin needed some comfort, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed._

_Pulling a lower section of the sheet back, she soon found herself grasping the dead hand of Rasler Heios Nabradia._

_Aralenne felt a lump rise in her throat at how unnaturally cold his skin felt._

'_It's a body, Lenne,' she told herself, 'don't let yourself get sick over it now.'_

_Closing her eyes and resigning herself to her task, she gently began twisting the wedding ring off his lifeless hand._

_When her task was done, she carefully set his hand back down at his side, tucking the sheet back in around him. There was something more she wanted to see, but the uncertainty she felt when first entering this room crept back into her mind. _

_The curiosity was just too great a temptation to pass by. She lifted up a hand, untucking and grasping the top edge of the white fabric._

_Biting her lip, she threw caution to the wings and ripped the sheet down._

…_And decided that pale skin absolutely did not suit Rasler at all. It made him look older, and less attractive. When she first met him, she thought his youthfulness had been a part of his charm._

"_You left this world too soon, brother," she said quietly, letting a finger stroke his cold face. "We need you now more than ever."_

_She pulled the sheet down a little further, revealing a part of his upper chest area. Her eyes fell to the area beneath his neck, where the armor opened up to expose skin._

"_You __**idiot**__," she gritted out, taking in the sight of a broken off arrowhead still embedded in Rasler's chest. There was very little blood, which only fueled the anger she felt._

_She hung her head in shame._ _She was ashamed that instead of feeling grief for the man she was once loved as a brother, she felt anger. Anger that this man had made her cousin a widow so soon. "I told you that gaping hole in your armor was a bad idea, I __**told**__ you."_

_Sighing defeatedly, Aralenne pulled the sheet back over his face, tucking the edges against the table gently, smoothing it down._

_"Until we meet again, brother," she whispered, releasing the deadbolt on the door and twisting the handle._

_Aralenne stepped back into the deserted corridor, a wedding ring that was not hers clenched in her hand._

_A new worry was now worming its way into her anxious thoughts. She had not seen nor heard from Basch since he had arrived back at the palace, and not only did it worry her, it infuriated her. Infuriated her to know that he would rather be alone than be with her, infuriated her to know that he'd rather drown in his misery alone, because everyone knew that misery loved company._

_She would get this ring to Ashe soon enough. But right now she had some unfinished business with a certain Captain Ronsenburg, and it was **not** going to wait._

**-XII-**

_Now I know  
Yeah, this is home  
I've come too far  
And I won't go back  
Yeah this is home…  
_

**-XII-**

GAH! It's done! This chapter was a pain in the *BEEP* as far as organizing scenes and putting them in a good order. It was also difficult to capture Aralenne's emotions as she came home; I hope I did a good job on it, considering quite a bit of material had to be cut out… _long story_. But it will be re-written/revised one day; I envisioned a lot of scenes for this chapter, but alas, they didn't make the final cut.

And I know a huge chunk of Vayne's speech is just _there_, word for word; I originally was going to have Aralenne's reaction to certain statements, but I nearly pulled my hair out while trying to attempt it. I was like, 'GAH! It's a fricking _speech_, and Aralenne's opinion of it is made perfectly clear by the end of it. Let's move on with the story already!'

But anyway, remember that _announcment _I told you guys about in the beginning of the chapter? *sigh*

I wish I could end this chapter on a happier note, I really do. But, I've been putting this announcement off for quite awhile, and now that my time is limited, I've gotta get it off my chest.

Before anyone starts thinking I have a life-threatening illness, let me explain:

Starting now and lasting through up until the end of March, _In Love and War_ is going to be on hiatus. It may even be a little longer than that, depending on the circumstances. But for at least, 13 weeks, about 3 months total, I won't even have access to a computer. Where the hell exactly am I going to be?

I'm going to be in Parris Island, South Carolina.

The United States Marine Corps Recruit Depot.

It's really weird. You know, I never expected to go into the military, especially right after highschool. I never really considered it to be an option. I skimmed over the idea of it at the beginning of my senior year, but it was quickly tossed aside once I sank into the routine that was school. Then, in late April, I really started thinking about it. One of my best friends had already been enlisted before that. Hearing the way he'd constantly talk about it; the Marines at the office, the other recruits, the way you change after bootcamp, the immense comraderie between everyone, the _family_ that he was now a part of… It got me curious. And more than a little envious. I'd always push these feelings aside, forgetting about them later, but there came a Wednesday in late April when that curiosity and that envy caused me to make a spur of the moment decision that changed my life.

I told my best friend to make an appointment with his recruiter. Friday of that same week, I was sitting in a chair at the recruiting office. Seeing how the Marines there interacted with each other, the way they held themselves, always confident and enthusiastic—I knew immediately that I wanted that. Being someone who's had low self-esteem most of their life, I immediately wanted that confidence. I wanted to be a part of that elite club that these Marines and recruits seemed to share. You know, my senior prom was April 11th. I went to the recruiter's office on April 26th. If you had told me on April 11th that I'd be enlisted in the United States Marine Corps less than a month later I would have laughed and said you were crazy.

So why exactly did I enlist you might wonder? Did I _not_ get the memo that there was a war being fought? And the _Marines_ at that? They're practically on the front lines, right? And you said this was a spur of the moment decision? … Eh, not completely. I did my homework before I went to the office. I wasn't totally ingnorant as to what I was getting myself into. But if I hadn't made the decision to go to that office when I did, I probably wouldn't have gone at all.

There's a lot of reasons why I enlisted, a few of them personal, but mostly it came from the desire to change who I am, because in truth I'm a lazy, unmotivated procrastinator who desperately needs to get their life in order. I thought the military would be a good way to do that. I didn't want to go to college (even though I signed up for the fall semester to get some credits and fill in the time) because after graduating highschool I was just done with education for the moment. Highschool had been hard for me, mostly due to the fact that I was so horrible at math that I never even bothered to take the classes seriously. I had to retake semesters of those math classes, which really sucked, especially in my senior year, when it hit me hardest. Come to think of it, senior year was the only year where I actually got good grades in math… I had awesome teacher, not to mention we were studing math we were actually going to use…

Anyways, I chose the Marines because they're the elite, and I'm not just saying that to be arrogant. If you exclude the Navy SEALS, who're a class all their own, the Marines have the toughest and longest bootcamp out of all the services. And don't think I have anything against the other services either, I have great respect for all of them; my dad was in the National Guard for 13 years. I had a grandpa and an uncle in the Navy. An uncle who was an Army paratrooper and fought in Vietnam, and two cousins now currently in the Army themselves. My great-grandma was in the women's division of the Army in WWII, in aviation. The reason she chose the Army was because she was disqualified from becoming a Marine herself (for what reason, I don't know). I have only one relative who was once a Marine (well, _once_ a Marine, _always_ a Marine, but he's no longer enlisted, he's just a civilian now)

_[Damn, this is starting to sound like one of my myspace blogs… Once I start pouring my heart out I can't stop… But I leave tomorrow, so I just feel like getting my feelings off my chest for a moment; I hope you guys don't think I'm nuts for spilling half of my life story here!]_

It might be rough not having a chapter until the end of March, but keep in mind that I'm going to be in hell during that time, so I won't be going un-punished! After basic training I get to come for 10 days (Yeah, it's only 10 days… But that's more than enough time for me to get the next chapter out, awesome titled 'Fete Crashers'), then it's off to MCT (Marine Corps Combat Training) for about a month. Every Marine has to go through it, even if Infantry isn't part of their MOS (Military Occupational Specialty, mine's Logistics). We _supposedly_ get weekends off in MCT, so I'm going to see if I could _possibly_ bring my laptop with me… If not, I may have to wait until I go to school to train for my MOS.

I know we're reaching a crucial point in the story and you all desperately want to know what happens next (I'm just as desperate to get those chapters out), especially now that Aralenne's back in Rabanastre… My original plan was to get another chapter or two written and have a friend post them up while I was away, but that didn't go according to plan. But there are some things to look forward to next chapter that just _might_ be worth the wait! You'll find out in the excerpt that I'll post in a little bit…

And to finish off this _novel_, don't think for a second that when I come out of bootcamp I'll be so changed that I'll have lost interest in this fic. They say you change in bootcamp, but even so, this story has been my escape ever since I started writing it. There's no way I could ever abandon this fic; so many of you want to see how the story ends. _I_ want to see how the story ends! If it ends at all…

I can't believe I just wrote all that. But I felt you guys deserved a better explanation than 'Hey, I'm gonna be gone for 3 months to a place where I won't be able to access the internet, so no chapter for you!' I felt like I owed you all a more complete explanation. Everyone who reads this story, reviews it, adds it to their favorites and story alerts… _You guys are what keeps this story going_. I didn't have to write this. I didn't have to post this. I could've just kept this story in my head where no one else would ever hear about it. But like a lot of people, I wanted whatever creativity I thought I had to be noticed, so I posted this story. To my surprise, it gained a following. So I kept going, not only for all of you, but for myself also. I had so much fun bringing this story to life… I wanted to see how it would end, if the story even ends at all! I've been juggling around ideas for a sequel, but we'll have to see how I feel when the story ends…

Anyway, I leave you guys with not only this chapter, but a present also. Go to my profile and click on the youtube link at the top of the page. Make sure you read the summary before watching. It's no ordinary AMV… it's rather… epic. :]

Until the end of March,

Semper Fidelis (Always Faithful)

NovaGloriosa17


	12. X-I: Fete Crashers, Part I

There's not really much I can say at this point. It starts a little different than how the last chapter ended, so bear with me. This story is under an _**intense **_rewrite. That's why this chapter took so long. That, and you can't really rush a creative endeavor. It would have turned out crappy otherwise. I would ask for help, but sometimes being an author is just destined to be a solitary journey...

**Question:** How many people knew that there was a Final Fantasy XII _manga_? I sure as hell didn't until about a year and a half ago, and it's freaking AWESOME! I had to go searching for it on google once I got word and it might take you awhile to find it, but it's definitely worth the search. I urge all of you to look it up! It details a lot of stuff from right before the game, and even a little bit into the story.

**-XII-**

Chapter 10

-Fete Crashers Part 1-

**-XII-**

_The sun was setting on Rabanastre. The sky was striped with a colorful array of red, orange and yellow hues, with the occasional splash of pink and the pale purple of the oncoming night. The first stars were already beginning to come out of hiding and shine dimly over Dalmasca._

_He led her through the palace halls, moving somewhat hastily, but not pulling her along behind him like a ragdoll. He had not uttered a word since he had stepped out of her uncle's study, but he seemed incredibly anxious._

_"Basch," Aralenne began, wondering where on earth he was taking her, "are you going to tell me what occurred between you and my uncle?"_

_"Patience, Aralenne" he responded, a small pulling at the corners of his lips, but she could not see it in the dimming light that shone through the windows. Eventually they would arrive at place she knew very well: the inner gardens of the palace._

_He continued to lead her along one of the cobblestone paths to a more secluded spot of the earthen sanctuary, where they would be hidden by a variety of trees and blooming foliage._

_"So," she stated, crossing her arms as she came to a stop in the small clearing, "are you going to tell me what this is-"_

_She turned around to face Basch, just in time to see him drop down to the ground… down on one knee. She raised her eyebrows and blinked in surprise as he gently took her left hand in his._

_"Basch," she began, looking around nervously and blushing profusely, running a hand haphazardly through her hair, "what-what are you doing?"_

_"Aralenne…" he started, looking down at the ground momentarily, trying to regain his sense of speech as quickly as he could, lest he look like a babbling fool. It seemed he was just as nervous as she was. "I know that our present situation was forced on us very abruptly. In a different life… I would have courted you properly. Taken you out for dinner in the city… Had your favorite flowers delivered to you by messenger when you least expected it... I know that right now… your feelings do not yet go beyond friendship, and that is fine with me. I would rather have that than have you despise me for what has been thrust upon us."_

_His voice picked up more strength as he continued on, still looking at the ground, as if looking at her face would distract him. "But I promise you that no matter what, you will always… have me by your side..I will support you in whatever decisions you make throughout your life. I'll always take care of you, and defend you, your honor, your life, and your heart, if the time should ever require it._

_Aralenne's breath had already since caught in her throat from the moment she'd seen him on bended knee. This man still continued to surprise her in the most interesting of ways._

_She stared at the new ornament that now adorned her left ring finger in awe and wonder. Was this really happening?_

_"Aralenne…" he continued, "I promise that I will give you everything that a man could possibly give, and more. I pledge to you that this heart of mine… this heart, this body... will always belong to you…" He fell silent and took a deep breath before he said his next words._

_"Would you do me… the extraordinary honor… of becoming my wife?"_

**-XII-**

Aralenne's heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest in anticipation. She wrung her hands together nervously, trying to keep from jumping out of her skin.

"My lady, are you sure this is wise?" the young servant asked cautiously.

Aralenne turned her head slowly, raising an eyebrow at the man quizzically.

"Wise... what? To open a door? Do you believe there is some kind of fiend resting in there and we are disturbing it by opening its domicile?" She wore a mildly peeved expression.

"N-no. Of course not."

"If you are feeling uneasy, feel free to leave," she offered, taking the large ring of keys from his hands. "But there are some questions that I simply must have the answers to."

She vaguely heard him say that he would not leave her until she dismissed him. But his words meant nothing to her as she realized what she was about to do as the last panel was ripped away.

Basch's room.

Would it be the same as the last time she saw it?

Would it have been looted by the Empire?

And more importantly, what would she find in there?

Proof of his innocence...?

...Or evidence of his supposed treachery?

Finding the correct key, she stepped up to the room, and with near trembling hands-had she not noticed that she had been shaking nearly the entire time?-she inserted the key.

She didn't feel her heart speed up, never noticed the breath leave her chest.

Twisting the object until she heard that familiar 'click', she pushed open the door to a flood of memories.

**-XII-**

_Aralenne fell to the floor in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close to her, nearly unbalancing him due to the fact that he was still on bended knee. His arms found their way around her waist._

_"I do," she said softly into his ear, making his heart soar and his body shiver._

_"I really do."_

_Her small hands found his face, tilting his head upwards until her lips landed on his._

_His eyes widened in shock, but he responded back. It was a very chaste kiss, but one that he enjoyed immensely nonetheless. His fingers tangled in her hair as their lips met again, and again._

_He smiled, jumping to his feet and pulling her with him. She gasped as he stooped low and looped his arms around the back of her knees, lifting her into the air. Her laughter echoed into the darkness that surrounded them._

_And for the rest of that night, Dalmasca's impending battle was forgotten._

**-XII-**

The memory faded. Aralenne hung her head. She felt the muscles in her chest tighten involuntarily, as if to brace themselves.

"I will enter first." She stuck her arm out in front of the man as she stepped through the door.

The room was shrouded in darkness. A dry, musty smell invaded her nostrils. Yes, this room had definitely had no visitors for a long time.

"If you like, I will have this room cleaned up at once."

"There is no need for that," she replied, waving him off, wandering further into the darkness where the servant could not see her. "You can do it at another time."

"But my lady-"

"That will be all," she cut him off. "No one enters this room except for myself until I say so, understood?"

"Yes ma'am," the young man bowed his head respectfully.

"Good. You may go."

Fumbling her way around in the darkness, Aralenne found what she was looking for. She pulled back the thick, heavy curtains of the windows, turning her head away as blinding light spilled in through the glass panes into the room. She could see the dust particles floating and glittering in the air, almost ethereal like. But this situation was anything but.

It seemed as if this room had been completely untouched by time.

Completely untouched…

"How strange…" she whispered to herself, walking around the room, observing everything with intense scrutiny, every minute detail, searching for something, anything, that would leap out at her as unordinary.

'Basch… if you really were a traitor, like the Marquis' proclamation had declared… wouldn't they have gone through all of your chambers to search for evidence to support those claims…? I know that the Marquis would not condemn someone unless he had absolute proof... Unless of course the Empire had forced his hand in the matter...'

Aralenne stopped at his desk. Numerous papers still littered the surface, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Brushing it away, it was revealed to be nothing more than notes, military strategies, maps, and random lists of various natures...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing to convict him by.

Aralenne rifled furiously through every drawer in the desk.

Nothing.

The room was spacious and well furnished, but lacked anything of personal value besides what Basch had kept in the desk. There were several large bookshelves against a wall, but they held nothing.

To be truthful, she knew Basch had rarely used this room. He only maintained it when the King required him in the palace for extended periods of time. But other than that, the Captain permanently resided in the barracks with the rest of the Knights of the Order of Dalmasca. Any personal effects would most likely have been kept in that room. Along with any evidence... but would he have been foolish enough to leave it in such an obvious place?

'This is ridiculous,' she told herself. 'You're thinking as if Basch was guilty to begin with...'

Aralenne opened the doors to the bedroom. Like the study, it looked and smelled as if no one had been there in years. The thick atmosphere of dust made her sneeze several times as she opened curtains and windows to it air out.

It was amazing to see how much this room had not changed since she had last seen it. The bed was still in the same corner, covered in the same deep red comforters and pillows. The nightstand beside it. The wardrobe and dresser was still against the wall, unopened for two years. In one corner was a table and mirror. Her heart felt even more saddened at the sight of a bowl and razor still left out from the last time he had shaven.

Her eyes traveled to another corner, where three wooden armor racks stood. Two sets of armor were still hung up, each covered in dust. She recognized one as the ceremonial set she had made for the entire Order, and the other as the suit he wore on a normal basis.

The third rack was empty.

It was missing the set of light armor he had been wearing at Nalbina.

Her eyes began to water as she looked away and that feeling of grief rose up within her for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. She then opened the doors to the wardrobe, wondering what Basch had left inside.

The cape to the ceremonial armor. The metallic embroidery of the designs on it shone in the sunlight. And the cape to his regular attire, with designs and emblems of Dalmasca on the back. A set of boots also stood on the floor of the wardrobe.

The drawers held very little, save for a few sets of civilian pants and shirts. Did they smell like him? She wondered.

Closing the doors quietly, she walked over to the nightstand by the bed; the only place left in the rooms that could possibly hold any answers for her.

And to her surprise, it was occupied. By a small, rectangular wooden box, with a note tied to it. She picked it up delicately and pulled off the ribbon, unrolling the paper without hesitation. She was even more surprised to find out that it was a letter, and it was addressed to her.

_Aralenne,_

_This was one of very few possessions I took with me when I left Landis. It belonged to my mother. She told me that my father had given it to her when they were young, as a symbol of his love. When I became old enough she passed it on to me, wanting me to give it to the woman I would one day marry. It isn't much, but please... think of it as a token of my affections for you, and to what I hope is the start of new life for you and I._

_I remain always and faithfully yours,_

_Basch fon Ronsenburg_

Her throat constricted painfully. She shut her eyes hard, but to no avail. A few tears trickled down her cheeks as she set the letter down.

"Basch..." she whispered sadly.

'We were ripped out of our lives so suddenly...'

Wiping away the tears and sniffling loudly, Aralenne picked up the ornate wooden box, popping the bronze clasp and opening it with care. She was genuinely curious to see what he would have given her.

Nestled carefully in between the velvet folds was necklace. She pulled a long, moonsilver chain from the crevices inside the box, and blinked in surprise when she felt a significant weight attached to it.

A small, bejeweled sphere hung in the air. It was unlike any piece of jewelry she had ever seen. Aralenne could tell that the ornament was also made of moonsilver because of how it shined a brilliant white in the sun that streamed in through the windows. It felt incredibly heavy, but somehow light at the same time. It was almost the size of a small egg. The surface of it was covered in a tiny, intricate relief that hinted at an image of the heavens, while the diamond and sapphire chips that studded the metal's exterior suggested an array of night sky constellations. She had never seen a more beautiful or thought provoking piece of jewelry in her life.

After another minute of studying the object carefully, she noticed another detail. A tiny, raised design in the shape of bursting star. And small, nearly unnoticeable hinge. A dividing line between pieces of metal.

So... it was some kind of locket.

She pried it open gently, hoping it wouldn't break. It came open surprisingly easy, like a ripe piece of fruit. The star-shaped clasped was actually attached to a dividing piece of metal inside the hollowed-out object. The inside of the top half of the tiny sphere held images of clouds, a sun, trees and flowers etched into the metal and inlaid with colored with enamel. The colors were enhanced with impossibly tiny, multi-colored jewels. She raised the small divider to look at the other half.

The bottom of the hollowed-out sphere was engraved with an image of the seas. Blue and white jewels enhanced the rolling waves that for a brief moment reminded her of the Phon Coast. And the bottom side of the divider was stamped with an image of the moon, and a quote that was nearly too small to make out.

_'My bounty is as deep as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,  
The more I have... for both are infinite.'_

It was truly a work of art. Who knew such a small object could hold such a beautiful world inside of it? Aralenne closed the locket, marveling at the exterior of it once more and allowing herself a small smile.

Basch had good taste, she realized. And once more, even in death, had proven that he known her far better than she thought. This was a piece of jewelry that actually meant something; something she would have made sure to have worn on a daily basis, and not just an addition to the collection of baubles and trinkets kept in her massive jewelry looked at his letter again. As much as it pained her to read them once more, it only served to set her mind into what she had determinedly believed in for the past two years.

The words that he had written across the cream colored parchment back then were not the words of a man about to commit treason. If Basch were going to betray them, then there would have been no reason for him to deepen his relationship with her beyond that of a Captain and his lady.

'This whole thing reeks of the Empire's stench,' she thought, walking out onto the small balcony of the room, putting the pendant around her neck.

'Just more evidence that nothing is as it seems.'

**-XII-**

As Gabranth oversaw the security and preparations for this ridiculous fete that Vayne had insisted on having, his thoughts were repeatedly consumed by one thing and one thing only.

Aralenne.

Although her return to Dalmasca was something she would have to deal with on her own terms, he wished that there was a way to make her happy. But that feeling quickly turned into anger when he realized that his-should even call him brother?-might be responsible for her current melancholy.

And what angered him further were Vayne's possible motives behind this fete. In all his years in Archadia, he knew that Vayne had a tendency to avoid what social functions and events that were not specifically required of him. So why would he host such an unnecessary event?

To further his seemingly benevolent and sincere intentions to the people of Dalmasca? To show them that he fully intended to take care of the subjugated country? They certainly would not be attending this event. The only people on the guest list were Archadian and Bhujerban nobles.

Was it for Aralenne?

But why would he do that?

Was it a possible first step in trying to win her affections? The man had underlying intentions for bringing her out here to Dalmasca, that was certain. He was not just doing it to be generous. Everything that Vayne did was a part of some plan to further an agenda. Although he was not privy to the man's intentions, it didn't take a scientist such as Dr. Cid to figure this one out.

The fact of the matter was: Gabranth wasn't the only one who wanted to claim Aralenne for himself. And although he knew that any possibility of this coming true was impossible, the same could not be said for the man who commanded him.

It made him sick to his very stomach to think of the way that man's eyes would travel all over her when she was not aware.

And it made him murderous when he thought of how the man would not hesitate to force her into his plans because he wasn't someone to whom you could just say 'no' to.

'I _will _protect you from him,' Gabranth thought resolutely, clenching a fist.

'No matter the cost.'

**-XII-**

Aralenne didn't know how long she had stared out across the city in a daydream. Her hands went periodically to the pendant around her neck to observe its meticulous beauty over and over, and it was in such an action that a servant found her.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

She jumped like a child caught in a troublesome act. She quickly tucked the jeweled trinket into the neckline of her dress before she turned around.

A young female servant stood there, probably no older than Aralenne herself. Aralenne had never seen her before, so she concluded that she must have been a new hire for Vayne's arrival in Rabanastre. She seemed really thin underneath her servant's attire, and for a moment Aralenne wondered what kind of life she had been leading up until now.

"Lord Vayne has ordered me to inform you that it is time to start preparing for tonight's fete."

"The fete?" She repeated, eyebrows furrowing together as if she didn't quite understand.

"Yes," the servant replied hesitantly. "Did you forget?"

"Yes, I did. I... I became too wrapped up in... some things..."

As she followed the young woman out of Basch's room, Aralenne wanted to sigh very loudly and dramatically. She'd almost forgotten about this ridiculous affair. Oh well. Time to get this debacle over with.

**-XII-**

Although freshly cleaned and the linens changed, her room was exactly the same as the last time she had seen it. And while she wished she could have had more time to sort through the remnants of her old life, it seemed that Vayne's agenda of having her dressed on time had to come first.

"Lay everything out from my closet on the bed please," Aralenne said hurriedly to the elderly woman that had already been in the room upon her arrival. She began untying the ribbon and various pins that held her hair up in its usual bun until her long hair fell around her shoulders in waves. She kicked her shoes off unceremoniously into a corner.

"I beg your pardon ma'am," she said, "but Lord Vayne had given us an outfit that he desired for you to wear tonight."

"I must apologize," she said in a muffled voice, pulling the dress that she had been wearing over her head to reveal a thin and flimsy shift, "but I am not interested in what Lord Vayne wants me to wear tonight."

Aralenne balked at the idea of that man picking out something for her to wear; she did not even want to see what his choice of women's clothing looked like. It was probably something that was very... Vayne. And in likelihood revealed large amounts of skin. Definitely not.

"I am a woman of Dalmasca," she continued, disappearing into the closet and reappearing wearing a robe. "I will dress as such from now on. Prepare everything while I go for a bath please."

**-XII-**

An unfortunately short bath later, Aralenne returned to her quarters, where it seemed as if her entire closet was strewn all over the room.

"What color, ma'am?" The elderly woman asked. "We had everything cleaned and laid out for you."

Aralenne looked over to her bed to find it covered in only a fraction of the evening dresses that covered the room. The colors varied from dark, wine-colored hues to vibrantly bright shades that reminded her of flowers and eventually to a pallet of soft pastels. Aralenne perused through them one by one, her fingers combing through fabrics of silk, satin, velvet, lace, tulle and whatever it was that Ashelia had seen fit to stock her wardrobe with.

Ashe.

Another pang of guilt and sadness wrenched at her heart painfully.

"I should have stayed with you," Aralenne murmured, her fingers clenching into the fabric of a dress so hard it threatened to rip the delicate material into pieces.

"My lady?"

"I will wear this one," she announced abruptly, releasing the dress. "Could you find the proper accessories please? I'm afraid I haven't done this sort of thing in... quite awhile." She went to sit in front of a familiar wooden vanity, she stared numbly into her reflection while allowing a servant to untangle her hair.

"Of course."

"Ma'am?" Another inquiry from the young woman.

"Yes?"

"Would you like your hair up or down?"

Aralenne looked back into the mirror.

"Up, please."

Nearly an hour later, Aralenne didn't recognize herself. Her reflection seemed so foreign to her, dressed in Dalmascan garb. Engraved gold cuffs dotted with tiny, multi-colored jewels adorned her wrists. Gold earrings dangled from her earlobes, tiny rubies set into the gold chains that fell to her shoulders. Another set of gold cuffs wrapped around her upper arms, with attached bolts of red cloth falling around her forearms. Pins in the shape of bursting golden flowers adorned her temples, with attaching chains running back along her hairline, weaving in and out the locks that had been elegantly piled on top of her head. A red ribbon held the coiled twists together.

A red skirt fell to her feet. Altogether, the ensemble revealed a modest amount of skin. The sides of the dress were nonexistent, and although strapless, an ample amount of fabric covered her breasts enough to convince her that her modest amount cleavage would not be the center of attention all night. It was secured tightly with gold cords in the back. And from that a thin, red veil of fabric flowed from the back of the dress and fell to the floor. A belt of golden flowers resembling Galbana lilies accentuated her hips.

_'So... what's your favorite color?'_

_He laughed. It was a deep, rich sound that filled her with warmth._

_'Red,' he replied._

Aralenne thought of the red dress she wore to her cousin's wedding. A small part of her wondered if he had found her appealing that night...

"You look beautiful, my lady," the elderly woman said softly, walking up behind her. "Every inch the Dalmascan noble."

"Thank you," she whispered, as the woman began to apply the barest amount of rouge to her cheeks.

They were soon interrupted as a familiar chinking and jingling sound traveled into the room. It stopped at the doorway.

"Hello Gabranth," she greeted him from behind the dressing panel that effectively blocked them from view.

"There you are," came his reply. "Good evening. Are you almost ready?"

"Almost," she replied back, closing her eyelids as a brush skimmed over them.

"She is ready, don't let her fool you," the woman replied, setting the makeup on the table. "Don't be shy, sweetheart."

When the panel was folded back, Gabranth didn't remotely have a clue of what to even say. There was no possible way to put into words just what exactly he was thinking.

She was beautiful.

"What do you think?" She asked, wringing her hands together and keeping her gaze lowered, not wanting to meet his gaze. Or the helmet's gaze, at least. "Is it too much?"

"No, it's... it's not," he managed to say. "You look lovely. This ensemble suits you well."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Let's get a move on. I'm escorting you to this... fete. Lord Vayne would be displeased if I let you be late."

'But it would be worth it,' he thought secretly, if it meant he would get to marvel at her appearance longer.

"I have never seen this outfit before," he asked casually. "Where did it come from?"

"It was in one of my closets," she replied. "Can you believe that?"

"Why would I not?"

"Well," she continued, "almost everything here is almost exactly is it was left. I went through rooms in the palace today…" she trailed off, staring off into space. She thought of Basch's room, a place that she was still not done desecrating yet.

Gabranth waited her to continue, but she said nothing else. He left the subject alone.

"So… you have worn it before?" He asked, in a half-hearted attempt to keep the conversation going.

_'It's a dress that I am going to wear once, Ashelia, once.'_

"Once," she answered, adjusting a silver necklace that hung from her neck.

"At my cousin's wedding."

**-XII-**

_Like..._  
_Anyone would be,  
I am flattered by your  
__Fascination with me._

_Like, any hot-blooded woman,  
__I have simply wanted  
__An object, to crave...  
__But you...  
__You're not allowed.  
__You're uninvited,  
An unfortunate, slight..._**  
****  
****-XII-**

The young woman known to the Resistance as Amalia leaned against the stone wall casually, arms crossed, watching with cold eyes as the vibrant and brilliant display of fireworks that were being set off exploded into brilliant starbursts above the place she had once called home.

Lowering her head, she clenched her left hand, observing the flash of colors on the two moonsilver bands that adorned her fingers.

She turned her head slightly at the interruption to her thoughts.

"Are you ready?" A voice asked from behind her.

Determination flooded through her veins. The damn had been broken the minute that they had begun their infiltration into the subterranean levels of the city. They had all come too far in the past few days to be afraid of losing their nerve. _She_had gone this far in the past two years to turn back now.

Nodding wordlessly, she lifted the Escutcheon off the ground, drawing her sword and disappearing into the darkness of the waterway.

Dalmasca's liberation would begin tonight.

**-XII-**

But inside the royal palace of Rabanastre, two more infiltrations of much smaller and more delicate scales took place.

One was a blonde street rat conducting a desperate and foolish attempt to find treasure. And another was a pair of sky pirates... on a not as desperate, but still foolish attempt to find treasure.

The pair made their way through the palace halls, skirting around the servants, guards, and everyone in between them and their quarry. The soldiers were already up in arms and running about the palace halls like angry cockatrices, which only served to benefit the seasoned sky pirates.

It almost seemed too easy.

Until they happened upon a Magister.

Balthier and Fran quickly ducked behind an ornate wall divider that closed off an intersection corridor.

"I'm going to check up on the security," they heard the Judge say around the corner at the end of a hall, "will you be all right?"

"I think I can make it to the ballroom without your help from here," a young woman replied, laughing. "I believe I know this palace better than you do."

The Viera's ears perked up and she inhaled sharply as the woman walked past them. Fran's eyes followed her with curiosity and amazement. Balthier's eyes followed her too, but for a different reason entirely.

"Her spirit speaks to me," Fran whispered, placing a long-fingered hand over her heart and closing her eyes briefly.

"Does it speak of anything interesting?" Balthier asked as she rounded the corner and was out of sight. The pair continued to make their way through the palace halls. It wasn't much farther.

"Nothing that a Hume would be able to understand," she answered cryptically, as they came to the location they had been seeking at last.

"What was that?" Balthier asked, reaching into the wall and grasping the lever.

Fran took a step back as a portion of the wall slid down into the floor. Balthier looked at her, smirking at his ingenuity.

And soon they disappeared into the darkness.

**-XII-**

The finished version of Fete Crashers ended up being so long I ultimately decided that it would be best to split it into two parts. There was so much detail and everything was so busy; this chapter is ultimately where so many storylines and plots come together that there was no way I could cram in so much detail without disrupting the flow of the story. You can also argue that half of this chapter could belong in Chapter 9, and so on and so forth. But I do everything for a reason, I swear!

Could I have just made it into two completely separate chapters? Yes, I could have, but I am a slave to the creative voices in my head, and they said that I should do it this way.

Please don't think I'm trying to milk you guys for reviews. I'm not, I promise.

The next chapter is ALL Aralenne and Gabranth. I know you crazy fans out there can't wait! And I have a poll on my profile concerning this story, please drop by and vote!

And once more, thank you to everyone for supporting this story and for continuing that support! It is so uplifting to receive a PM from someone telling me that they read this story years ago and are still waiting for it to continue.

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